


Atone

by Darksilversilhouette



Series: Visions of Nirvana [3]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Borderline Personality Disorder, Character Study, Gaiety, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Not beta read after chapter eight, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Strained Friendships, Strained Relationships, Tragedy, alternate endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2020-09-01 00:27:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 309,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20249140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darksilversilhouette/pseuds/Darksilversilhouette
Summary: What do you do when you don't know who to trust? What do you do when you know, but you don't know if you can? How do you bridge the gap between wreck and recovery? And how does a hero stop being a hero, when the world doesn't need heroes anymore? This is the final stanza of friendship, of family, of grief and of hardship...of loss and perseverance. But most importantly...this is a story of love...of love recovered...love lost...and love eternal.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> As with the previous installment, the POVs will be more or less sporadic.

The echo of footsteps in an almost empty building and the low hum of machinery was slowly getting louder, more distinct. Passing through the door in front of them, they came upon a corridor lined with tubes filled with iridescent green liquid. Walking past them was not an easy task, but sacrifices had to be made in order to achieve their goal, and in the end, it’d be worth it, every prill of shimmering viridian, every drop of crimson spilt.  


The building seemed to creak around them, reminiscent of the semi-dilapidated structure that it was. In terms of integrity; it was sound. It wouldn’t have been selected if it wasn’t. Despite their limited resources, they were still an efficient entity. Carrying out such a vital task in the middle of something that was falling apart was more than careless...and they could not afford to be careless. So while their current state of operation was somewhat dated, it was still professional and efficient.  


Keeping their eyes fixed straight ahead, they carried forward, dispassionate, clinical and entirely professional; entirely unlike the stout man shuffling to and fro in a drunken stupor in the main room of the warehouse. In a corner of the spacious makeshift lab, a group of five men stood, looking ahead at the far wall with blank blue stares. Phantoms...the ghost of what once had been brought to immobile and unseeing life. They knew nothing, would know nothing...

The scientist was working on another one of the specimens, seemingly fresh out of the mako tanks, and they knew it wasn’t because of his undivided attention that he hadn’t noticed their arrival… Observing his behavior during the entirety of their brief  _ collaboration _ , if it could even be called that, it’d been easy to pick Hollander apart, to know what motivated the man, to play into his petty desire for revenge, his lust for more power; to manipulate him so he’d give them what they wanted. Shallow...weak...sniveling...all such terms applied to the individual before them. He did what he was told because he lusted after that which he could never have; power.

If he believed in luck, in  _ chance _ , he’d count this as some sort of sign.

With Hollander’s access to the labs, and to the unlimited pool of SOLDIER, their plans had moved ahead at a much faster pace and to a stage he could’ve only hoped for achieving at the time they had actually started this. With the supplies and hard copies of the classified documents the scientist had smuggled from the Shinra headquarters, they had a whole new set of possibilities ahead of them. They’d needed this opportunity before it became fully apparent that it was quite possible for their goal to become a reality. Needed it like others needed air to breathe and water to sustain themselves. And despite the pathetic package such opportunity presented itself in, they had taken it. Because it could be molded to what was wanted...to what was  _ required.  
_

And now, with SOLDIER’s starred First Classes out of the way, all three of them, it was going to be just so easy.

If only the rotund man-who was stumbling about, sweating profusely and smelling of cheap cologne that was barely enough to hide the reek of his fornicating with some unfortunate sex worker-had been more discreet in his proclivities and his means of commute. Hollander’s carelessness had been nearly enough to cost them everything they’d been working on, as it had already cost them one base. It wasn’t enough to warn him, not this time. They had given him far too many cautionary opportunities in the past...and he had squandered them all. Scornfully, he wondered if this was why he’d always been second to Hojo...because he was so much  _ less.  _ So hungry yet with so little to give. And who wouldn’t hunger under the power of a scientist with such unlimited genius? Who wouldn’t desire to sit in the seat of a man who had paved the way to ingenuity with nothing but his mind?  


Their men had dealt with the Turk who had found the warehouse but it was only a matter of time before Shinra reared its ugly head. And they had to act quickly if they didn’t want all their efforts to have been in vain. There was no room for bumbling fools anymore; no room for dotards with unreachable dreams and irreparable pasts. Because what could you do with a dirty dog who refused to heel? Dragging a stubborn, blackened leash around an internally imposed arbour? And despite the fact that Hollander was dutiful to them for now, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t turn tail when faced with their true purpose.  


Cowards were-after all-subliminally afraid of death.  


And there was no room for fear here, no room for the possibility of betrayal. Carelessness was an unforgivable sin that-if given the chance-might not ever be rectified. Really, it was a mercy...if he had to think so humanistically. You couldn’t survive in a world you were eternally looking to usurp. And while Hojo’s aims had been much the same, at least he had been able to accomplish them. There was a distinct difference between getting something and wishing for something. No matter what they gave...the drudgard before them would always wish for more.  


He abhorred greed almost as much as he abhorred fear.  


“Hollander.”

Finally, the scientist turned around to acknowledge them, a nervous grin twisting his face. He was-in that moment-even more aware of the deep-seated insecurities that inundated the individual before them. Anyone who craved acknowledgement and reward so much had limited use. They could only give so much before it was pointless, and Hollander could only take so much before he got careless...as he had not so long ago. And it was a shame really, because he could have had more; likely could have discovered more if he’d taken his opportunities seriously. But the individual before them was an  _ opportunist,  _ and opportunists did not understand the value of opportunity.  


They didn’t give him any more time. Not to breathe, not to utter any last words.

The silvery glint of overhead lights flashed along the edge of a curved blade as it traveled in its sure and unfaltering upward swing. It took an infinitesimal moment for a line of red to start blooming across a nondescript shirt, for pain to register across the weakling’s features. There was another blur of metal, the singing of a sword, and Hollander’s head went flying, the body crumpling to the ground.  


It was of no consequence now, even as it painted the ground red with its worthless lifeblood.  


“Get to work” was the firm order.

The warehouse came to life with the discordant cacophony of footsteps.

They stood where they had been, like unmoving forces of nature, ever observant and watchful. Feared...respected...it didn’t matter. When it came to what they were doing, it was one and the same. For now...he needed them to believe in what he was doing, because it was the right thing; the  _ only  _ thing. Others might call it blind devotion, but he was more inclined to think of it as a cohesive cognizance. Because their goal was a unified one...their goal was all that mattered.  


The copies and the data were transferred to their vehicles; men filtered out of the warehouse slowly to return to the back of the vans, dousing everything, every surface with gasoline behind them as they turned on their heels, retraced their footsteps from the way they had taken earlier. No one talked...no one conversed beyond basic communication needed to ensure the efficiency of their endeavors. It was better this way; better that the focus remained on the task at hand than the opportunity of sociability with one another. Chatter was needless and unnecessary, and he felt a small iota of pride as he acknowledged the fact that the men before him were cognizant of this without him having to tell them. It wouldn’t have been this way not long ago, when he was still trying to gain their trust; swaying them to his cause and opening their eyes to the tyranny that lay around them. He wasn’t going to tell them this, of course, but it was worth acknowledging. Reverting his focus, he gazed ahead once again.

They weren’t going to leave any traces that could lead back to them, nor were they going to leave anything salvageable, nothing at all for Shinra when they’d finally arrive. It would be difficult, of course. SOLDIER had far more resources than they did, even in their current state of poor defense. There was always the possibility of  _ something  _ making its way through, but they would do what they could with what they had. Creating something from nothing was what they were good at, what they had always been good at. The men took pride in their ability to improvise, and he let them because it drove them forward. Watching as a group of three worked to move a heavy piece of electrical equipment, he acknowledged that it was better that they functioned together...unlike SOLDIER, which seemed to function only through tyranny and total control. He believed in control...but he did not believe in ignorance.  


He stayed behind, made sure nothing remained, made sure not even one single surface was left unslick with refined petroleum, stayed until the smell was too strong to bear before turning around, pressing the terminate button on every mako tank on his way, heard the continuous drone of condensed Lifestream pouring down the drain, envisioned the way it had to take, the twists and turns of miles and miles of tubes that carried it back down to the deepest bowels of Gaia...so that maybe it’d finally return to its origin, as tainted as it was, but hopefully with time, it’d be accepted among the whole of the entity that coursed through the planet.

Outside, everyone was waiting for him.  


The flick of a lighter, the inaudible passage of air as it was thrown toward the building, the molecules moving out of the way, before the energy was enough to trigger the fire triangle. Heat of the flame, the gasoline vapor as fuel and the very oxygen he was currently breathing in; the diaphragm expanding to allow his lungs to reach their maximum capacity, the exchange of O 2 with the CO 2 the hemoglobin of his red blood cells had carried to the numerous alveoli by the capillary networks. The ichor rushing through the vessels to return to the heart as the cardiac muscle relaxed, before contracting, pumping fresh oxygenated blood to his head, up to his face; as it branched out into multiple capillary networks reaching modiolus muscles and helped pull his the corner of his lips into a shadow of a smirk.

Hungry flames of fire started licking up the walls immediately, reflecting off his spectacles.

There was the starting roar of engines behind him, and he turned around, his features schooled into immaculate neutrality as he turned his back on the burning structure. He didn’t particularly care if Shinra found anything in the warehouse once they’d managed to tame the blaze. Their plans were already set into motion. Still, it was better to be thorough...better to make it harder for them to figure out their end goal. Despite the fact that they didn’t have the manpower necessary to bring them down at this point, they could still be an inconvenience...a nuisance. When the time came...they would be dealt with as well...and they would know why.   


If it meant that he could save this planet, he’d do anything. Even if it meant giving up his... life.  


This was nothing, a small insignificant step in the grand scheme of things. In the magnificent plan he’d devised to rid the planet of the plague of humanity to finally allow it to heal. Today marked the beginning of the end for Shinra. For humanity.  


A beginning for them. For the planet.


	2. Chapter One

They didn’t talk to each other for twenty-four hours.   


Sitting on the porch staring at the rising sun, Sephiroth wondered if his life was ever going to be normal at all. The birds were singing in the trees and he could hear the soft rustle of animals in the undergrowth but he’d have rathered they didn’t bother. The fact that his environment was normal and full of life was negligible compared to the fact that the circumstances beyond it were anything but typical. Staring at his shoeless feet, he angrily wondered if he was ever going to walk upon some type of soil where discontent and unrest were not a facet. Inside, he could hear the tell-tale signs of Genesis getting up; mostly the stumbling around and the cursing but also the definitive sense of absence. Indignantly, the silver-haired man reflected that this wasn’t  _ his  _ fault; he hadn’t asked Vincent to show up out of nowhere and then become an involuntary houseguest, but that’s what had happened. And maybe it was because the redhead was distraught and he didn’t know how to go about being distraught when he was exiled to an island he could potentially explode with the flick of a finger. Or...maybe it was because Angeal had been his best friend, his only friend for a very long time until they’d been unable to continue their friendship.

And now Angeal was dying.

Glancing ahead, Sephiroth narrowed his eyes against the glare of the sun and put a hand up to cover his brow. He didn’t know what to think about it, what to  _ do  _ about it really. He’d counted Angeal as a friend...once. Before so many terrible things had happened. And he didn’t really blame him for throwing him into a mako reactor. No, he blamed him for trying to pit Genesis against him without hesitation...for being what he swore he wasn’t. And he knew the circumstances around it were far more complicated than he was stubbornly alluding they were. A part of him was saddened...somewhat. He supposed he ought to be more saddened, but his emotional capacities since coming out of the Lifestream were only slowly returning compared to his emotional capacities towards his lover. And he  _ cared,  _ he truly did...he just didn’t know how to do more than that. Realistically, there wasn’t much he could do...not here. Even if he was back at HQ and the entirety of the staff magically trusted him again he doubted that there was anything he could really do.   


The former General hadn’t really been privy to the full effects of Genesis’ degradation. He knew what the older man had told him, and from the little he  _ had  _ seen he knew it wasn’t pleasant. But there was still a part of him that didn’t know exactly what they were dealing with, and because he didn’t understand the intricacies of it, he knew he was falling short of an appropriate response when it came to the news. Sephiroth was a tactician...down to his bones. It was incredibly frustrating to be faced with a situation he couldn’t statistically or logically finagle his way out of. He liked fixing things because continuity was something he enjoyed...and unfortunately that was not the way the universe was wanting things to pan out for any of them. He supposed-bitterly-that Hojo was laughing hysterically in his grave. It made him want to dig the mad scientist up again just so he could make sure he was dead and that he wasn’t orchestrating this constant litany of tragedy. And it was a tragedy...really; one with no good answers or solutions.

Vincent was-to put it simply-a mess.

He didn’t show it outwardly-and Sephiroth stubbornly ignored the fact that he did the same thing-but it was in his eyes and in the way he moved. He caught his sire staring into space more often than not, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to sit in one place for hours on end without blinking or moving. The ex-Turk was a haunted man, and while he was loathe to compare himself to his father, he knew where that sense of phantasmic agony was coming from. Because Vincent loved Angeal, and now he was going to lose Angeal. He was going to watch him die a slow agonizing death while he stood by unable to do anything about it. He’d felt the same when Genesis announced that he was dying, though his despair was also mixed with a dark madness that was slowly unraveling over his psyche. Thankfully, the gunslinger didn’t seem like he was planning to murder anyone any time soon...but there was an emptiness to him that he didn’t entirely like.   


Realistically, Sephiroth knew that he ought to have talked to him at this point.

But it was-so he found-incredibly hard to talk to someone you sympathized with. That was saying quite a bit, because he had found that social interaction was about as comforting as swimming with a herd of aquatic marlboros. The fact that commiserating sociability was  _ harder  _ was genuinely horrifying. He didn’t know what to say, really. Stating that he ‘understood’ his father was a little bit hollow; because while he kind of knew where he was coming from, he’d also gone on a murderous rampage almost directly afterwards and he was sure that Vincent wouldn’t appreciate him correlating it in such a manner. Asking him if he was alright didn’t seem like the best approach either, because the older man was clearly not ‘alright.’ He could-of course-ask Genesis. But Genesis was a social butterfly compared to him, and they didn’t exactly look at human interaction on similar scales. Sephiroth was fairly sure the redhead might hit him if he ever found out that he’d compared him to a butterfly, but the cohesiveness was still there and he refused to ignore it during times like this.   


And so he was stuck. 

It was a little bit creepy to find himself in the same room as his father and realize that neither of them knew what to say to each other. Vincent had always been the instigator, but he was too enmired in his sadness to reach out in any way and Sephiroth felt a little bit like he’d been zipped into an anti-communicational straightjacket. He settled with sending his sire surreptitious glances until he got a raised eyebrow; which he then took as an indicator that the older man was not ready to talk. Several times, he’d caught Genesis staring at him like he was the most idiotic being that had ever walked the planet but he tried to tell himself that he was doing his best. This wasn’t true, but it was better than the alternative; which was telling himself that he was doing extremely badly. Folding his arms, the silver-haired man scowled and kicked his feet up onto the railing. There was the sound of approaching footsteps, and he stilled somewhat to identify them. It was only moments later when the door opened to reveal a somewhat sleepless-looking Genesis. He was wearing a loose T-shirt, a pair of sweatpants, and sneakers; standard training garb for them considering their current locale. The younger man was a little surprised, because he didn’t think the redhead would be anywhere near the right mind frame for training with everything that had transpired. Now that he thought about it though, it might be what he needed to process things. Blue eyes cut across to him, and he let a tentative smile grace his lips, tilting his head slightly to indicate that he was receptive to anything he might be willing to say.   


Genesis blinked slowly at him, in the same fashion he always did when things were too messed up to be smiling about it. The sentiment was endearing, because while those blue eyes were obviously troubled, they had the softness of some sort of understanding affection. His partner’s cerise lips parted minutely as he walked to close the short distance between them, only to press them together into an impassive line. The gesture was repeated one more time, and Sephiroth couldn’t help but feel his eyebrows creep upwards on his forehead slightly at the uncharacteristic quality of it.   


“You should talk to him.” Finally seeming to make up his mind, the redhead bluntly stated, obviously not at all pleased with what he had said.   


A childish, somewhat dramatic part of him wanted to roll his eyes, because he already knew that and it wasn’t exactly rocket science. What he didn’t know was how to go about it. Opening his mouth to give voice to his predicament, the scarlet-haired individual raised a hand to stop him. “I know, that was the stupidest thing to say.” A short pause, and the older man was first to break their eye contact. “I don’t think he needs our sympathy Seph. I-...” A sigh, and the corner of Genesis’ lips he could see on the side of his visage that was facing him quirked downwards. “We didn’t get to talk to each other about it. Didn’t have anyone outside our relationship to confide in… But maybe, just maybe...that’s what he needs? Just someone to talk to? To get it off his chest?” And when his lover turned his head to fully face him, those azure eyes were somewhat pained. “Maybe he just wants you to  _ listen? _ ”

Genesis was probably right.   


That didn’t, of course, make it any easier. Even if he did listen there was no guarantee his father would feel any better once he’d got everything out. Because once he did it would still be rather like he’d just confided in a concrete wall. Sighing, Sephiroth allowed the air he’d expelled to pass over his lips as he scrubbed his hands over his face. And Genesis shouldn’t have to think about this at all when he was so obviously struggling himself. The redhead shouldn’t have to worry about someone else’s problems when he was processing so much at once. He felt terrible about it, felt like no matter what he did he consistently ended up being some type of inconvenience. It was disheartening, because he wanted to be the strong one, the supportive one. Time and time again circumstances provided him with the proof that he was definitely not that individual. Repressing a frustrated growl, the silver-haired man stood in one fluid motion. He was-again-momentarily blinded by the sun...which had risen since he’d taken a seat and he took a few seconds to blink it out of his eyes before turning towards his lover. Taking slow, careful steps, he closed the space between them until he could cup the blue-eyed ex-soldier’s elbows; clasping them and drawing him near.   


When Genesis didn’t push him away he leaned forward to press a kiss against the former Commander’s temple, ran his left hand through scarlet locks until his former comrade swayed slightly and then dropped his head onto Sephiroth’s shoulder. Long fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt...a little tighter than might have been necessary, but still wanted. The green-eyed man let his right hand curve over the jut of a hipbone as they stood there; silhouetted by the new morning sun. And he’d needed this a little bit, this affirmation that everything between them was somewhat alright, despite everything. He couldn’t imagine what kind of memories the news had awakened in his partner, but he knew that it had to be a little painful. He’d been waiting for the redhead to come to him, but maybe he should have taken the initiative. This-if possible-made him feel even more guilty because he’d unwittingly assumed that everyone was eventually going to talk to him and that was just the way things worked. It was-undeniably-an incredibly idiotic vein of thought. Kissing his companion once again, he drew back.

“Do you need to talk?” Sephiroth asked uncertainly. “I know…I haven’t been paying attention. I don’t want to seem like I don’t care, because I do.”   


Genesis’ hand that had mirrored his gesture stayed at its post over his hip, tightened minutely and oddly enough, it was his lover who stepped forward this time, auburn locks tickling the side of his neck as an auburn head returned to his shoulder, nestled in the crook of his neck.The warm virile physicality of his partner was pressed against his, close enough that the lines of their bodies almost meshed together were it not for the fabrics separating them. It took him a moment, infinitesimal, but a moment nonetheless to reciprocate, to hold onto the small of his former comrade’s back and the faint contour of a shoulder blade. Worry twisted inside his gut, guilt rising up to suffocate him because the older man was obviously distressed, the tension lingering under the pale skin bleeding out in their embrace, but still there.

“You’re overthinking it again.” was the flat response, and Sephiroth knew that it wasn’t at all the end of what his companion was going to say. “I think all of us needed some time to think, though mine’s been less than fruitful.” Genesis tried to settle against him even further, which wasn’t possible physically and yet he somehow managed it. “I don’t have any recollections between when…” A gravid pause. “I  _ died _ and I woke up in Deepground. My memories of my first days there are hazy… I-...I don’t know how I healed.” Another longer intermission, and before the redhead could continue there was the sound of footsteps coming from the other side of the door. And while it wasn’t at all like the scarlet-haired ex-First to care about how Vincent saw their relationship or felt about it, his companion immediately backed away from him, put a good several feet between them as blue eyes darted to the entrance of the cabin.

When the gunslinger emerged he was struck yet again by how weary he looked. Distractedly, Sephiroth wondered how long it had been since his father had truly slept...if he’d spent his nights sitting up with Angeal or even sitting up while Angeal slept because he couldn’t do anything else...because sleep wasn’t an option. He was wearing some nondescript pants and a turtleneck, but he was very obviously not dressed for travel. Genesis must have noticed this as well, because he made a quiet noise on the edge of irritation before falling silent again. Crimson eyes flicked to him, and the understanding behind them was painful, because it was just on the edge of a deep-seated guilt. There was a soft chirrup as a sparrow landed on the bannister and looked at the three of them as if reprimanding them for their thick-headedness before flying away again. The silence of the forest was almost repressive in their state of silence; it pressed in like a heavy, humid blanket inundated with birdsong and rustling leaves until the placid tranquility of it seemed almost like a cacophony. Deciding that he didn’t have anything to lose, the former General cleared his throat and opened his mouth.   


“Good morning.”   


Genesis went from somewhat irritated-looking in terms of Vincent to somewhat weary-looking in terms of Sephiroth. And it wasn’t exactly the right form of greeting considering the circumstances but it was the most creative thing he’d been able to come up with at the time. And it  _ was  _ creative-he thought stubbornly-if rocks could be creative. Glancing at his redheaded lover, the green-eyed man left his respective post and sat back down. His father seemed to hesitate before striding over to a chair that was somewhat diagonal to both of them before sitting as well. He tried, without much success, to subtly observe the ex-Turk’s visage; taking in the dark shadows under his eyes and his overall haggard appearance. When he received a raised brow in return, he sighed inside and told himself that he would do better next time. Inside the cottage, a phone began to ring in quick succession; but he didn’t recognize the tone. With a jolt he realized that it must be Vincent’s; but glancing at the older man proved that his eyes were carefully devoid of emotion, as was his face.   


“Good morning” he said flatly.   


There was a somewhat overloud sigh, which made him look up with a somewhat incredulous, and hopeless expression at his partner who was just crossing his arms over his chest, blue eyes looking irritatedly at both of them now, and also lingering somewhat on the door before there was the creak of wood underneath his sneakers. The redhead huffed dramatically and made his way down the stairs when it became apparent that neither of them were going to continue past their rather awkward pleasantries. Looking over his shoulder as he made his way across their ‘yard’, Genesis threw back at him, probably in both encouragement and warning. “I’m going to train...Be back by noon.” And before Sephiroth could formulate a response, even though it was probably unneeded, his lover’s quickening strides carried him past the treeline; further and further away until he couldn’t see him through the foliage. This left them...sitting awkwardly together in a maelstrom of absent verbosity. Vincent was looking pointedly in any direction but him, and he supposed that if he was going to do this, it might as well be now rather than later.   


“I’m not good at this” Sephiroth said abruptly. When his father proceeded to look confused, he elaborated. “Talking...figuring out what to say. I wish I could tell you I know where you’re coming from, but the circumstances around Genesis’ degradation were very different...he didn’t tell me everything he knew, so I wasn’t prepared.”   


It seemed to take the older man several minutes to gather his thoughts. When he did, he spoke haltingly...as if he was unaccustomed to being so forthright. Shifting in his chair, the gunslinger angled his body to face him more fully.

“I...don’t know what to do” he said in a low voice. “Angeal forbade me to tell you, either of you, but I couldn’t hide it from you.” A vague gesture. “Look at what concealing things we don’t understand-things we fear-has done in the past. The consequences were... _ horrific.  _ And I don’t think-” the crimson-eyed man took a deep breath. “-I didn’t think either of you would forgive me for arriving here with the news of...of…”   


Sephiroth understood.

“More than likely not” he agreed blandly, and Vincent flinched. “I don’t think it helps, but I think I can speak for both of us when I say we’d rather know now than find out when it was too late. You’re doing the right thing.” He rubbed a hand over his arm uncomfortably. “I don’t know if you’re doing it the right  _ way,  _ but I think your intentions are good.” A bitter chuckle. “And I’m not the individual you should be turning to for affirmation of good intentions. Look at what I did when I found out that Genesis was dying...that he was leaving…”   


There was silence again for a while, but it was an easier silence than it had been before. At the same time, it didn’t take away from the gravity of the discussion. At length, his biological father made a bitter, pained sort of noise and he looked up. Vincent looked-to put it plainly-utterly lost.

“This-this  _ pain,  _ I don’t know how to process it” he said thickly. “Angeal doesn’t want to talk about it, but that doesn’t make it go away. I’ve been looking for a cure but there’s nothing, and I’ve looked everywhere. Sephiroth, I’m an old man...I don’t look like an old man, but by all accounts and purposes...I  _ shouldn’t  _ look this way. And I never thought that when we started our relationship-” he faltered and took a shuddering breath. “-I never thought that I wouldn’t be the first one to go. I was always afraid of how he would handle it when I died. And I ignored the fact that there’s a good possibility that I  _ can’t  _ die. Not the way I am now. When- _ if- _ Angeal dies...there’s a good possibility that I’d never be able to follow him. That I’m never going to know death.” A grimace that was more like a self-deprecating snarl. “And it’s so  _ selfish  _ to think that way. So selfish. But all this has forced me to question what I really am...if I’m really just genetically privileged because of Hojo’s tyranny, or if I’m... _ frozen.”   
_

Sephiroth had considered the possibility before.

He knew, logically, that his father’s appearance wasn’t a matter of mere luck...or fortunate genes. Middle-aged men didn’t look like they were in their early to mid-twenties...it just wasn’t done. In a different time, he might have considered Vincent lucky; but when you were involved with someone who-despite their enhancements-would still suffer the ravages of time, you had to look at things differently. And the silver-haired man couldn’t imagine how  _ lonely  _ that was...how utterly alien it was to see everyone you had known age while you remained the same. With Angeal degrading, the former Turk was forced to look not only at his partner but at himself, at the differences between them that might separate them permanently. And Sephiroth knew without asking that the older man didn’t consider death by his own hand an option...that they both knew it was something Angeal would never approve of, and so it wasn’t something he could pursue. But he’d never considered the reality that Vincent could outlive him...that he could outlive  _ everyone  _ and not age a single day. He couldn’t imagine doing that, really. Couldn’t imagine looking at Genesis and knowing that someday he was going to die and that he would never follow.   


“Have you...tried talking to him about it?”   


Vincent’s expression became indescribably weary.   


“I’ve tried, and Angeal does listen...it’s just...the perspective is so different. Because he thinks that I deserve life, and I don’t know if I deserve anything at this point.” Scarlet eyes cut to where Genesis had disappeared. “He thought you deserved to live” he hedged uncertainly.

“Not at first” Sephiroth replied. “And it’s taken time...we’ve had...a lot of time to figure out where we are now, and we’re still not perfect. I don’t think any relationship is perfect. Genesis and Angeal are different people in any case, you can’t really compare them to each other.”   


“But he understands your guilt, he sees it” Vincent pressed.

“Yes” the silver-haired man said slowly. “But he doesn’t  _ like  _ it. And that’s where the difference is. Angeal is going to comfort you...soothe you; Genesis does that too, but he also has a limit to how much self-flagellation he’ll tolerate. Eventually,  _ Genesis  _ is going to get sick of it and kick me around until I stop for a while.” He shook his head, a fond smile curling over his lips. “Angeal isn’t going to kick you around, he’s going to take it upon himself.” Sephiroth grimaced. “And I suppose that’s what makes it so hard to talk about things, because it’s hard to talk to someone who’s always going to compound your concerns and make it their responsibility.”

The ebon-haired gunslinger was staring at him a little suspiciously.

“For someone who claims to be terrible at talking to people, you’re awfully good at reading them.”

The former General grimaced.

“That doesn’t make it easier to relate to them. If anything, it makes it harder. Humans are notorious for saying things they don’t really mean, for choosing tactfulness over honesty because they fear judgement. So I can see the truth, but if someone says the exact opposite of it, it gets muddled.” He ran a hand through his hair. “When I was a Soldier, the President was always saying things he didn’t mean, the people who pandered to me were always saying things they didn’t mean. My men were always talking about the glory and honor of death on the battlefield when half of them were truly terrified of death. It’s easy to conform to something because you won’t be judged for it, that doesn’t make it right.” A silver brow winged upwards. “Genesis usually means everything he says unless he’s very angry and then he is….” the younger man hesitated. “As he would say  _ ‘full of shit’  _ but anger makes people illogical, I’m not any better. My point in all this is that you have to find a middle ground between self-preservation and honesty. It’s not always easy.”   


“I don’t really know if that’s possible” the gunslinger confessed.

“It’s possible...but it might take a while. Genesis and I were conditioned to put our emotions to the wayside in favor of survival. It’s...incredibly hard to stop that reaction once you have it in your system. We still struggle with it, especially Genesis...because he has far more trauma embedded in his psyche than I do. It’s easy to give over to defense when the only thing you’ve ever known is pain and betrayal. Angeal’s situation is different because he used that pain and made it into strength...into honor...but it also became a crutch because it prevents him from understanding that just because someone wants to  _ talk  _ to you about something doesn’t mean they want you to  _ fix  _ the issue. It’s part of why Genesis was always so angry with him...because he didn’t want that affection or love, he wanted the truth of what he was feeling...when the truth of what Angeal was feeling was guilt, and Genesis hates guilt when it becomes everything you are.” Sephiroth waved a hand. “You need to...tell him that you just want to talk...that you don’t want a solution but you want to be able to communicate with each other without one or the other shouldering pain.”   


Vincent appeared to be considering his words. Wearily, Sephiroth acknowledged that it was the most he had ever talked to anyone other than his partner. A part of him was screaming that surely the older man would use this against him, but he knew such thoughts were unfair. It was-as he had said-habitual to brace himself for the worst-case scenario when it came to people he wasn’t fully comfortable with. That being said, the only person he was truly comfortable with was Genesis...and he knew that it wasn’t entirely healthy. Not in the sense that their relationship wasn’t strong, but because it had to be an immense emotional burden for the redhead to have to shoulder his willingness to give when he didn’t give to anyone else. And neither of them were particularly forthcoming when it came to caring for others...but it hadn’t always been that way.   


“Sometimes I wonder how you had the viciousness to kill so many people.”

The silver-haired man stiffened before relaxing and allowing the comment. It still hurt, but he couldn’t afford to get angry about it.

“I’m not sure I follow you” he deadpanned.

Vincent shook his head.

“You understand people so well, but you hate them so much. I don’t really get it.”   


“When you understand people it’s rather hard not to hate them” Sephiroth said dryly. “Because people are so afraid of themselves, and I can’t abide by cowardice. But...in my defense, I don’t hate people...not anymore. I’m... _ tired  _ of hate; it’s an exhausting emotion. But I can’t respect a race of individuals who are so determined to wring what they can out of each other before discarding them. And I suppose that can’t be translated as hate of the individual. Rather, it’s just a hate of hate.” He tilted his head. “But we’re not here to talk about philosophy.”   


Again...a stretch of non-communicational chronology, and he forced himself to revert his focus for the time being. When Vincent spoke again, his voice was thin.

“Did you...find anything in Shinra manor that might hint towards a cure?”   


Guiltily, the younger man acknowledged that he’d probably burned their best chance at finding a solution to the ground. He couldn’t take it back, but the realization that a single gasp of hope was in charred and broken ruins was horrible in its enormity.   


“It’s...not what I was looking for” he said grimly. “At the time my focus was elsewhere. I don’t think it helps, but the Jenova Project didn’t anticipate the setbacks of alien cells, and the degradation wasn’t something the scientists foresaw...not those that were committed to the project anyway. And while I know about the project, I’m not a scientist; I don’t know how Genesis’ degradation was cured and neither does he...he doesn’t remember it.” His eyes hardened, but he kept his voice calm. “I would encourage you not to push him for it.”

“I won’t” Vincent said quickly. He seemed to hesitate before continuing. “What would you do...in this type of situation?”   


Against his will, Sephiroth sagged...his hair falling forward to hide his visage before he looked up at his father.   


“I think we both know what I did” he said darkly. “But I can tell you what I  _ should  _ have done.” When the former Turk cocked his head questioningly, he continued. “I should have gone with Genesis, should have stayed by his side...supported him no matter what. And maybe he wouldn’t have been cured, but I don’t think either of us would have chosen this over staying together...over the atrocities that followed. Angeal needs you, now. He  _ wants  _ you close to him. And you’re welcome to stay here, with us two broken reminders of what could have been, what  _ should  _ have been...but it’s not going to give you what you’re seeking. And I don’t think you want to get to the point that we did...not that I’m saying you will...but there is a price to this sort of solitude...to finding what we’ve found despite everything. And we were lucky, very lucky to be given what we have.” When his companion was still silent, he pressed further.  _ “Go home,  _ Vincent.”   


While they were talking, the sun had risen high overhead. The passage of time seemed negligible when compared to their conversation. Sephiroth wouldn’t have time to train, not until the day cooled down and night began to fall, but he didn’t resent it. There was a rustle as the brush parted just at the edge of the clearing where the cottage sat. Standing, the silver-haired man watched as the greenery was shoved out of the way to reveal Genesis. He looked sweaty and somewhat tired, but he also seemed to be calmer than he’d been when he’d departed. Blue eyes rose to meet his as the older man made his way to the front porch steps; stopped just at the bottom before looking between them, an exhausted sort of satisfaction settling over his face as he did so.   


“Lunch?” Vincent asked idly, rising before crossing the porch to idle by the door.   


Keeping his eyes trained on his lover, Sephiroth’s let his lips curl into a small smile.   


“Thank you” he replied. “But you really don’t have to.”   


“I want to” was the calm return. Again a sense of hesitation, and then his father spoke once more. “And thank you...truly. For listening.”   


The door slid shut.  


* * *

Leaving Vincent and Sephiroth behind, Genesis’ feet increased the pace and the distance each subsequent step traversed little by little of their own accord, so that by the time he was thirty feet through the woods, he was running. And while it probably wasn’t the best warm-up, the redhead simply couldn’t stop. He ran, sprinted forward, jumping over the undergrowth, dodging the tree trunks, pushing himself to his limits and pushing the boundaries of his territory even further as he tried to get as far away from the cabin as he could.

Something was happening to him since the moment Vincent had dropped the news of Angeal’s illness on them, and he hadn’t been able to be apathetic toward it as he’d have liked; hadn’t been able to bring up what he’d perceived as betrayal just to make himself feel angry instead of facing what had been unfolding inside him. Because, of course, it was just like something Gaia would do, something the Goddess would do...calamity after calamity when they’d just been offered a glimpse of heaven. Just when things seemed to be taking a turn for peaceful, for normalcy-as far as the definition was meaningful pertaining to the two of them-disaster had to strike. And the ex-soldier was sure it was probably what Sephiroth’s sire and his childhood friend must have felt when they’d found out about the disease too.

Life was never fair. It had never been fair. Genesis wasn’t naive to believe otherwise. But surely, Angeal Hewley didn’t deserve this...especially not after losing all he had held dear. The same Angeal who’d never stopped at an opportunity to help others, who  _ idiotically _ used to spend a good portion of his income on improving living conditions in slums-something the raven-haired General had sworn him to secrecy when Genesis had found out about on accident-; the same Angeal who turned into a mother-hen whenever he and Sephiroth had been on the verge of decapitating one another, who was reduced to hysterics whenever they so much as got a wound on the battlefield that was just on the wrong side of deep and life-threatening. The very same Angeal who’d always been kind...who’d loved him like a brother he never had… who probably still did…

His vision blurred somewhat, but instead of letting the tears flow, he screamed...over and over as he ran faster, harder until he couldn’t breathe and yell at the same time… and it oddly felt like that one time he’d run away from their house in Banora, went running into the woods, but this time no Angeal would be coming after him… and there was no cure, so it probably wouldn’t be long and then there would be no Angeal to come after him ever...at all. Nothing but some tombstone, and Genesis couldn’t abide by that, could never accept that from that kind face nothing but ash would remain, scattered across the wind. Because that was the way his childhood friend had always wanted it...after their first gruesome battle that had left them somewhat shell-shocked and trembling from the heavy downpour, covered in mud and gore.   


Tripping over a root, he stumbled forward, broke his fall with his hands only to cut himself against some stone, and the pain was what finally put a stop to his frenzied thoughts, to his unstoppable feet. And pain was something familiar...intimate… he was sure Angeal was feeling it right now, settled inside his bones, and no matter how hard his former comrade would want to claw at it to get it out of his system it wouldn’t be enough. Genesis wondered if his raven-haired friend would end up having a wing like they did...wondered if it’d hurt as much as it had when the redhead had discovered it first...wondered if he’d be all alone while Vincent was still here with them when it happened...wondered if those onyx tresses would start getting streaked with grey like his had…wondered if he’d be as alone as he’d been when he’d discovered them…   


_ No. _

What had happened to him and Sephiroth shouldn’t happen to Angeal and Vincent. Not because Genesis cared about them more than he did about themselves, no, but because...as surprising as admitting it was to himself, he could see a part of their past selves reflected in them, and where they’d gone wrong...where they had drifted apart...his childhood friend and his lover shouldn’t,  _ mustn’t _ . They had to make this right, both by Sephiroth’s sire and the blue-eyed General, and by themselves. Surely, there was something they could do.   


Rising from where he’d fallen on all four, the former Commander turned his palm over to look at the angry red line contrasting with the epidermis before curling his hand into a fist. They wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes again. While he had been occupied with a different agenda back then, it didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t been given a chance to fight degradation before his life and identity had been robbed from him, hadn’t been given a chance to look for a cure despite Hollander’s words, and while he wasn’t the kind of person who sat around waiting for opportunities to present themselves rather than rise up to seize them, he hadn’t been given much of a choice, hadn’t been given a whole lot to work with...and the blows he’d been dealt hadn’t really left him in a good condition to begin with. Regardless, if Angeal and Vincent wanted to let go, wanted to surrender, Genesis wouldn’t let them.   


Closing his eyes, he tried to push the myriad of feelings that had been roiling inside his chest since the gunslinger’s arrival away, tried to draw up a blank slate...dropped into the first stance of his Kata...tried to focus on the chirping of the birds overhead, the rustle of branches, the skittering of animals running around to and fro in the bushes, the once-in-a-while whisper of the wind...moving through the sequence with practised ease, only to start a new set...tried to focus on the pulsing feeling of vessels pumping blood to his muscles in his thighs, on his steadying breathing, in and out...in and out…Rapier was summoned, and by the time the redheaded ex-soldier was finished with his everyday routine, even though he could feel Sephiroth’s absence like the dearth of sun in a day, Genesis felt significantly calmer than when he’d passed the treeline.   


There was a whisper of an ominous voice at the back of his head that he was getting involved more emotionally in this than he’d wanted to, that he was sympathizing with Angeal more than what was necessary, that he was just fooling himself into believing that he was actually feeling better; that once Sephiroth and him were alone, when they ended up empty-handed, when the worst had come to pass, he’d just implode like he partially had in the morning on the porch… And while it was still hard sometimes to accept that it was actually okay to actively seek comfort from each other...after everything that had happened, he couldn’t simply deny the sense of peace that washed over him whenever he was in his partner’s embrace. Not anymore. So if this was fooling himself, if it was for the sake of all parties involved in this catastrophe, the so be it.   


Hopefully, by the end of it, he still had Sephiroth beside him, with him, to fall back onto. Hopefully, their relationship could hold against this one more ordeal.

So, it didn’t come as a surprise when he found his feet taking him inexorably back to the place they’d both come to accept as their own, their  _ home _ .

Somehow, he had expected his lover and his sire to be still sitting around the porch, but he’d rationalized that judging by the location of the Sol, it had been hours; and yet, surprisingly, the duo were still there where he’d left them, looking significantly less tense and awkward. Oddly enough, he realized that he was glad that those weary lines on the gunslinger’s visage were a little less prominent than they had been, and he let a somewhat pleased looked flash over his features as he secretly admired his partner for being able to make a difference. Irrationally, he wanted to let his sword drop just at the foot of the stairs, to rush in and draw Sephiroth in an intimate embrace, to tell him how much he loved him before they were forced to face this together, to make love to him because there was no telling what life had in store for them come tomorrow...but he had to reign it all in.   


Because as much as his silver-haired partner had claimed that the crimson-eyed gunslinger was just a biological relative to him, Genesis had come to realize that it wasn’t true. The way those beautiful beryl irises hadn’t stopped stealing worried glances at the haggard visage of the eldest of them was telling; the sympathetic look that flashed over his gorgeous features before being hidden just as quickly as it’d appeared, the confusion and the awkwardness of their exchange several hours ago was also further proof for the fact that Sephiroth cared. And the former Commander didn’t really know why a part of him was angry at this realization, didn’t understand where that pang of jealousy that stabbed inside his chest stemmed from. He couldn’t dwell on it now, however, even though it was glaringly obvious to him that such veins of thought were as petty as they were childish; that they needed to be addressed,  _ compartmentalized _ -as his lover put it-before being put away. Not with Vincent present at least.   


Another more surprising facet, was the fact that his caring for the silver-haired former General and his childhood friend seemed to have extended well past those two to encompass the thoroughly exhausted man who had been sitting on their chair before offering to prepare lunch for them.   


It was somewhat endearing, and the smile he flashed at the dark-haired marksman was a mirror of the curving of those perfect lips on Sephiroth’s face. And when the door slid shut, he gazed down at the brilliant emerald eyes that were trained on his visage, let the smile reach his blue eyes, and he really wanted to kiss him then and there, but instead he spoke, proudly, affectionately.

“I see you’ve made progress. How was it?”

Sephiroth made a face that he’d long ago come to recognize as deeply contemplative. He sighed inwardly because-so he’d discovered-the younger man was a little bit too condensed when it came to answering questions that were really not all that complicated. Reverting his focus, the green-eyed man gazed over his shoulder...his expression distracted and a little bit troubled.   


“It was...alright, I suppose.” A palm came up to card silver bangs away from a pale face. “I don’t know if I particularly helped anything.” The former General sighed uncharacteristically and tilted his head, eyelids lowering somewhat. “They’re both shouldering things apart when they should be doing it together.” A wry smile and his lover’s attention returned to him. “The situation wasn’t unfamiliar to me, I must confess.”   


Yet again, the redhead was accosted with the desire to hug the individual before him. He restrained himself, but just barely. He knew from experience that Sephiroth wasn’t inept when it came to conversation, he was just absolutely terrible at initiating it. Despite the fact that they argued, there was still no one he’d ever met that was as logically brilliant as his former comrade. He had the ability to look at things objectively, even if his emotionalism was a little bit off. For someone like Angeal, he doubted it would have been very helpful. Vincent, however, was equally analytical: if there was ever a duo who were going to understand each other, it was them.   


“Genesis.” The aforementioned man blinked and then startled somewhat when a long-fingered hand took one of his and lifted it so soft lips could press over each individual knuckle. “Thank you.” He supposed he must have looked confused because a velvety, affectionate chuckle was wrought between them. “If you hadn’t told me to talk to him, I wouldn’t have had a clue what to do.” A pause. “Well, I did” Sephiroth ameliorated. “But you encouraged me to do it, so thank you.”   


Genesis couldn’t stop the smile from stretching over his lips, didn’t say anything as he turned Sephiroth’s hand in his, held it and gently pulled upward in a gesture that his lover acceded with, rising to his feet and towering well over him standing on the topmost step. And the redhead did let his sword drop at the foot of the stairs then, as he climbed up them and together they stood on the porch with their hands still linked. It was really hard to resist the magnetic pull between them standing this close, but that could wait.   


Glancing over his shoulder at the door, the former Commander tried to put off mentioning the idea that had occurred to him as long as he could. He didn’t know how they were going to go about it, considering that there weren’t any labs here, and they weren’t definitely welcome to be part of the real world. Not that Genesis wanted to, except for the fact that he despised having to rely on others for their maintenance...for the most basic things, like food.   


There was also the matter of mako, or lack thereof...which the scarlet-haired ex-First was really conflicted about. As much as he didn’t want to have anything pertaining to their past lives, be it back at SOLDIER or Deepground, their decreasing levels of it made working with magic more difficult than what he was used to… not mentioning the startling fact that it had dulled his keen senses somewhat. He was sure his partner was probably going through the same changes, but maybe at a less rapid rate. It was somewhat odd and bizarre to acknowledge on good days; on bad days, however…

Shaking his head, Genesis tried focusing on the matter at hand. “Do you think you’ve lectured him enough or does he need me to beat it into his head later, perhaps at  _ night _ ?” A quirk of an auburn eyebrow as he observed Sephiroth’s yet again contemplative visage.

The younger man graced him with a small smile before squeezing his hand.   


“I don’t think that will be necessary.” A slight pause, and the silver-haired ex-soldier seemed to hesitate before continuing. “...We didn’t really finish our discussion. Do you want to talk about…?”   


He trailed off but Genesis understood. And he didn’t know how to answer that; because he did and he didn’t. It was painful to look at the numerous angles his emotionalism was coming from. His resentment because Angeal was the one who had facilitated their confinement when he could have let them go...his self-hate because he knew that in a way, his former best friend was only trying to do the right thing…his anger because the definitions between ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ were so convoluted and complex...the memories the news had dredged up from the recesses of his psyche. It was complex and it was frustrating, because the humanistic part of him insisted that such things shouldn’t even be a facet of his mentality. He should-automatically-be able to put his resentments aside and face what was before him...before  _ them.  _ At the same time, a small part of him whispered that Angeal had all the support he needed. Angeal had Vincent, and by proxy, if he had Vincent he had Sephiroth, because-as far as he was concerned-Sephiroth was going to do what he could for his father. And the blue-eyed man knew that it was deeper than that, that-if forced to choose-Sephiroth would likely choose him. But a darker, more insidious part of him whispered the  _ ‘what ifs’  _ and it was hard to ignore.

But Angeal was dying, and if he couldn’t put his concerns aside for someone who had always tried to reach him with kindness and sympathy...who was he? There was a facet of his psyche that was not a little bit disgusted with himself. Genesis startled as he realized that his companion had gently prised his suddenly vice-like grip away from his own...had turned to face him fully-with his back to the railing-and settled his hands on his hips so he could look into his eyes. Those viridian irises were full of a gentle kind of patience...if not an entirety of understanding. And the former commander knew that in order to gain that comprehension he would need to explain himself...but he wasn’t entirely sure how to word it without sounding completely  _ selfish.  _ He knew-unquestioningly-that Sephiroth wouldn’t judge him for having such thoughts. Because Sephiroth was going to love him no matter what kind of trash he finagled into his brain...but it was still difficult. His childhood friend’s lover was making lunch in their kitchen and he was outside wondering why he was so conflicted about it...why he was upset in so many different ways all at once.   


There was no good way to go about this, he realized. His predicament had the tell-tale signs of escalating into an argument, a break down, he wasn’t sure, just that they really couldn’t do this, not here, not now. The decision he was faced with shouldn’t have been so difficult to make, but it involved so many facets, so many parameters and not all of them were related to him, but actually to the three other individuals stuck in this mess Goddess had whipped up for them. Briefly, he was accosted with a hate so virulent it made a corner of his lips twitch as he fought the urge to sneer.   


Cradling Sephiroth’s elbows, he was torn between the desire to lean his forehead on a broad shoulder or try to maintain his distance...and for once, he wished that everything wasn’t so complicated and difficult. Genesis couldn’t help but blame himself for it, his upbringing and whatever that had come to pass to shape him into the person he was now. Acknowledging that his thoughts were quickly spiraling into self-loathing as he caught himself wondering about how broken he was and how could Sephiroth love him the way he was, the former Commander decided to push all his thoughts back in favor of speaking out loud.

“We do have to talk about this…” Ducking a fiery head, he stared blankly at some random point on the railing behind his partner before continuing. “But not  _ now _ , not  _ here _ . Though, there is one thing I wanted to know your opinion about.” Steeling himself, Genesis inhaled deeply, tried to calm the nervousness that seemed to have risen inside him all of a sudden. After all, it didn’t take long enough at all for him to have to bring it up it seemed. “What if they ran some tests on me to find out how I healed? And before you answer, I know…” He hesitated, still not meeting the beryl gaze that brushed against his psyche with its intensity. “I know it’s volunteering myself for experimentation...but that’s all I came up with. I don’t know how it’d be possible logistically, if Shinra would even care enough to go this far, but...”

Sephiroth had stilled as he spoke, and he could sense rather than see the younger man trying to process what he was saying. It wasn’t the easiest proposal he’d ever laid before him...he knew that. Both of them were entirely cognizant of what Shinra was- _ had been- _ capable of. And he could feel the way the former General stiffened; he could  _ nearly _ feel the way anxiety and fear slithered between them like a sinuous coil of black serpents. This would be difficult for them...for  _ both  _ of them, but for his companion especially. Sephiroth was not a stranger to the labs, to their coldness. If he stretched the limits of his understanding, he could just-barely imagine the picture of the silver-haired boy who had screamed in agony, begged for relief, for  _ mercy  _ only to be denied it over and over again. And now Genesis was telling him he wanted to go back...that he wanted not only to go back but to go  _ there.  _ It seemed to take forever for the green-eyed ex-soldier to gather himself…to force himself to relax even as the tension in the air remained thick.

“I have one condition” was the flat response. Sephiroth waited until the former Commander forced himself to focus on him before continuing. “I want to be there.” When the redhead looked somewhat insulted, he continued hurriedly. “And I  _ know  _ Genesis...it’s the same thing you asked of me, and I didn’t listen to you. But that’s why I’m asking, I want to break that cycle...I want to be there because I wasn’t there when it mattered.” Those green eyes disappeared as the younger man ducked his head. “I  _ wasn’t,  _ so please…”   


The redhead was helpless but to shudder, wanting to duck his head and yet continue gazing disbelievingly at the crown of his lover’s silvery head at the same time. His fingers tightened against the soft skin of his partner’s elbows minutely before he forced them to relax, forced himself to relax… Acknowledging what Sephiroth was admitting and the offer that was being proffered to him, his own _desire_ to have the silver-haired former General there with him when it was all going to go down, his _need _for it, this incredible_ insatiable_ **_want_** was somewhat frightening as it was astounding him into a shocked state of stillness.   


Genesis wanted to weep at the same time that he wanted to rejoice. Because despite everything that had happened, despite all the wrong choices, all the harsh words and cruel blows they had inflicted upon one another, they were finally on the right track. And while if they were ever given a choice to go back and try something different, he might give it his all so that neither of them had to go through all the pain they’d endured, that they still had to deal with sometimes on the bad days, but realistically speaking, the redhead acknowledged, astonishedly, that he had no regrets. That if they had to go through all this again, only to end up where they were now,  _ here _ , he was okay with it, he was grateful.

So when he finally managed to make his body obey his brain, when he parted his lips to whisper his lover’s name, it was like he was using his soul instead of his voice; astonished, affectionate, and could he be any more paradoxical? “Seph…” Genesis wasn’t fully cognizant of how the word had rolled off his tongue, but it was enough for the younger ex-soldier to raise his head, for those somewhat deeply concerned emerald eyes to lock with his. And the former Commander wasn’t really aware of what expression his facial features were currently arranging themselves into, but before he could see Sephiroth’s reaction to it, his hands left their posts only to cradle the sides of a gorgeous face and the pale column of his partner’s neck. When he brought their lips together, that desire, the want was the source of the urgency behind his kiss and his movements; the distance separating their bodies could have as well never been there, and a somewhat needy moan trembled up his throat and shivered down his spine.

Despite the fact that his response had obviously somewhat surprised him, the former General responded willingly. Sephiroth drew him close and returned to kiss with equal fervor; and within his mouth were words that both of them could have said but didn’t really need to. It was understood, this sort of intimacy. And while they’d had such intimacy in the past, it was never with such a degree of respect or understanding. Both of them were stubborn individuals with stubborn viewpoints...and unfortunately it hadn’t helped them in the least. Here, now, at least the redhead could safely say that what they had was a little more mature...more weathered. And while Genesis didn’t like the circumstances that had necessitated such weathering, the end-result was just as beautiful, if not more. Because what they held now was tempered like a blade painstakingly made and remade...something forged in blood and fire and war; and the end result was stronger than steel and yet somehow slight in its perfection. He wanted to take it and cup it between his palms until it became a physical thing that he could present to the younger man...as frivolous as it sounded. But how did you give a gift you could not see but could feel with every fiber of your being?   


_ “Genesis…” _

Red-wreathed lids slid shut as his tongue darted past supple lips, as Sephiroth’s hand traveled upwards to sift through his hair. And he acknowledged that here it was given, when other venues of gesture and verbosity were not enough. It was  _ so strange,  _ to be able to look at touch this way...as a gift. Even before everything that had occurred, the former Commander had had a cynical view of physical contact. To him, it was gratification...satisfaction...but not much else. And he hated to give credit to their imprisonment, to how they’d been forced to understand each other mentally rather than physically on a scale they’d never done before...but maybe that was part of what had led them here. He’d never laid his hands on someone with such reverence before Sephiroth, and Sephiroth touched him like he was stardust running through his fingers; like Genesis was the manifestation of a nebula brought down to earth and wrought before him in shimmering fire. It was different to be handled so...a little bit frightening really; because it left him breathless and dizzy. And it wasn’t always perfect, but in moments like this...he was somehow convinced that all the luck in the world couldn’t hold a candle to such tangibility. Sephiroth shivered and he returned the gesture unconsciously; like the emotion formed between them was shaped in a reciprocated wavelength.   


“Sometimes” the younger man muttered breathlessly against his lips. “You’re so brilliant I can hardly stand it.”   


Pulling slightly back so he could lean their foreheads together, a breathless almost carefree laugh escaped his lips, and the heated feeling that rose up his neck to dust his cheeks really couldn’t be helped. Genesis wanted them to stay there, together, because once they mentioned the idea to Vincent, and if the raven-haired man had enough sway to make Shinra accept their offer, or if they cared enough about the blue-eyed soldier who’d helped them reshape the company, it was entirely possible that they wouldn’t agree to Sephiroth tagging along with them...and the mere thought of spending more time apart...the possibilities of what Shinra could do to them was almost enough to give him cold feet.   


Finally opening his eyes, he found intense green irises gazing at him the same way Sephiroth sometimes did that Genesis really didn’t know what to do about but to hearken to it, mentally, emotionally and physically. Letting his hand trail down from where it rested just below a pale ear, the redhead pressed it gently against the fabric covering his lover’s chest right over his heart, following it with his eyes as he spoke quietly. “We should tell Vincent, and… if the Administration agrees, which is highly unlikely if you ask me, it’s even less likely for them to let us leave together.” And he wanted to duck his head and avoid the younger man’s eyes, but in the end chose otherwise as he continued. “I just want you to know that if that happened, you’ll still be with me there, and I’d be here with you.” A shadow of a smile fleeted over his lips as he lightly tapped a finger against his own temple. “In here.”

Sephiroth had opened his mouth to reply when the door to the cottage jostled before opening once more. Vincent stepped out again, this time holding a dish towel-something both of them were accustomed to at this point-and a much calmer expression. When he caught sight of their proximity, he paused...as if uncertain whether he ought to intrude or not. Genesis made a ‘tsking’ noise and gestured for him to continue, stepping away from the silver-haired man as he did so. He sent a pointed sapphire glare at his companion and watched with something akin to amusement when his lover pulled an uncharacteristically determined face and then turned to his father.   


“We want to come back with you to HQ” he said flatly.   


Crimson eyes flicked between them, narrowing somewhat as the older man tried to gauge their intentions. Inwardly, Genesis groaned very loudly, because being around two people who needed to think so hard about their responses could occasionally be a little bit like being a flamingo between a duo of elephants.   


“Elaborate” Vincent replied with equal blandness.

Sephiroth shifted somewhat before moving to prop his arm on the railing of the porch, his hair sliding over one shoulder as he did so. Genesis settled himself into a chair, his elbow on his knees as he leaned forward.   


“We don’t know what cured Genesis’ degradation” the youngest of them returned. “But there might be something in his genetic code that could give us some clues. If we come back with you to HQ, the Science Division could look into it.”

For a moment, hope flashed across pale features, and it was painful to see. Because despite what they were offering, there was no guarantee of success. They might not find any answers at all. And it was cruel to offer a silver lining that might not be a silver lining at all, but they had to do something.   


“Hollander is gone” the ebon-haired man replied, folding his arms. “What the techs are able to do is limited.” He looked seriously at Genesis. “...You’re willing to do this?” That dark gaze flicked to his son. “Both of you? Despite everything that happened to you there, you’re willing to risk this to help Angeal?”   


Running a hand through his hair, Genesis somewhat surprised even himself as he answered without hesitation, his eyes lingering on Sephiroth’s face, before observing the eldest of them again. “I know I’m not one to talk, but Vincent...you have to realize this doesn’t necessarily mean we’re going to find a cure… I don’t want you, or Angeal to get your hopes up only to have them dashed to pieces. It’s easy to get blindsided by hope…” He trailed off, ducking his head as images flashed behind his eyes, his face contorting minutely with pain as he continued in a low breath. “By love.” Almost loathing himself for the lapse in his demeanor, especially in front of Vincent-whom even though the redhead surprisingly seemed to have come to care for by proxy of both his partner and his childhood friend, still counted as an stranger-he tried to gather himself before looking up.   


The silver-haired former General still stood where he’d been leaning on the railing, his profile obscured behind silvery bangs as he appeared to be staring contemplatively at some random point on the wooden porch. The blue-eyed ex-First didn’t really know how going back there was going to affect them. There were so many unknown parameters, not to mention how Shinra was going to handle the situation, how they were going to deal with the people if they ever got wind of Sephiroth’s return. Pressing his lips into a thin line, his hand gripped the arms of the chair so hard it creaked. Because this was going to be a hundred times more difficult for his lover than it was going to be hard for him. And far more dangerous. The path they were going to choose was riddled with pitfalls; there were simply so many ways everything could go wrong, and the images his mind was conjuring for him didn’t make him any less fearful for his partner’s life.   


The dark-haired gunslinger was about to open his mouth when Genesis cut him off, standing up and making his way to stand beside his lover, facing Vincent as he laced their fingers together. “I have two conditions.” Minutely tightening his hold, the redheaded ex-soldier continued. “First, I want Sephiroth’s life to be guaranteed when we’re there. And second, I’m willing to do this, but, if and only if Sephiroth’s okay with it too. It all comes down to his word…” Turning his attention to the aforementioned man standing by his side, the former Commander added. “You don’t have to do this because of me, if it’s-...”

“-I’m not just doing this because of you” Sephiroth said calmly. “I care about Angeal as well. I don’t agree with everything he’s done in the past, and I’m sure you don’t either. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s always tried to do the right thing.” He hesitated. “That being said,  _ ‘okay’  _ with it...I’m not okay with it. I don’t like it at all, but I’m willing to do this. I don’t-” the younger man exhaled heavily. “-I don’t want to see someone else die because of this.”   


Genesis knew that it took an immense amount of strength for his former comrade to admit to attachment. In truth, he’d never heard him do so about anyone save for himself before. It was different in the psychic realm, because he could somewhat sense the thin...tentative bonds the green-eyed ex-soldier had made with others, but in reality it was paramount. Keeping his gaze trained on his companion, he watched as those brilliant viridian irises slid to Vincent before hastily flicking away...and he understood a little bit more. Angeal was a factor in his decision, yes, but so was the man before them. The idea that Sephiroth had formed an attachment to his father in such a short time was a little bit painful...and he knew it shouldn’t be...but that didn’t make the emotion go away.   


“I can’t guarantee anything” Vincent said quietly, and the redhead could tell he was trying to veil an enormous amount of grateful emotion with a deadpan tonality. “I truly doubt Angeal will approve of this, and if that’s the case...I’ll have to go over his head. There’s also the factor that I’ve told you about this in the first place…” he trailed off.   


Genesis suddenly felt that he shouldn’t be holding Sephiroth’s hand anymore. If the gunslinger currently standing in front of both of them could somehow vanish into thin air, he would’ve probably yanked his hand free; brought up all the roiling emotions and virulent thoughts so that it was all out of the way before they went to the headquarters, lest he snap there at the wrongest of times. It took more determination, more willpower to push it all down yet again, to let a tense smile tug on the corners of his lips as he regarded the eldest of them, before offering. “I know it’s something between you and Angeal, but you just take care of persuading the Administration.”

Detangling their hands, the former Commander stepped forward until he was standing beside the gunslinger, facing away from Sephiroth and narrowing his cerulean eyes at the door. “Leave ‘Geal to me.” Raising his hand and curling his fingers into a fist in front of him while he closed the distance between him and the entryway, Genesis watched as flimsy ethereal flames started kindling around it before looking over his shoulder through a fringe of auburn tresses. “My friend, do you fly away now? To a world that  _ abhors  _ you and I? All that awaits you is a somber morrow…no matter where the winds may blow…”


	3. Chapter Two

Prayer was an omnipresent thing.

Packed dirt...whispered supplications...sore knees and a bleeding heart; sometimes they seemed like the only things that came from her efforts. Because while Gaia could be loving and kind, she was not always ready to listen...and her aims didn’t always make sense or provide results that helped the Planet she claimed to care for. And maybe she herself was biased, because the Planet wasn’t limited to humans...and while she wasn’t fully human, she still loved the people around her. And it was hard to translate that love into her prayers, hard to make the Planet understand that despite their cruelties...humans were still beautiful creatures...just like everything else. Sentience came at a price, and the price was often kindness and oversight. At times it baffled her, because from what her mother had told her of the Cetra...they hadn’t faced the same problems. There were times when she herself was so angry at the populace around her she didn’t know what to do. She was careful to mask her emotions from Gaia during such times, because she didn’t want her resentment to give the Planet a reason to act.

The past few years had been hard.

Aerith had been raised during a time of relative peace in Midgar. It was easy to say ‘peace’ in the slums...because any time you weren’t facing the threat of robbery or murder it was peaceful. The economy below plate was terrible in contrast to the economy above...and the difference was stark. She possessed few memories from before her mother’s death...and maybe that was for the best. Instead, her childhood was filled with recollections of Elmyra, her caretaker. Soft, gentle, protective...Elmyra was everything a mother should be and more. She’d taught Aerith everything she knew about taking care of the land...what little of it remained anyway. It was through her that she learned to love humanity and not hate it for what it had done to her mother. It was easy to look at things from a selfish, subjective point of view...but she had learned otherwise through careful tutelage, and maybe it was best. Everything aside, she’d still had a hard time fitting in with other children...mostly because she saw things they didn’t...had opinions that they didn’t like. School was something she attended when it was affordable; which was hardly ever. Elmyra taught her at home otherwise, and she liked it rather better.

Communing with the Planet was both a blessing and a curse.

Regardless of her strangeness, Aerith didn’t want to be different. Like any normal child, she’d wanted friends...people who would stand beside her and talk to her. When Gaia reached out to her for the first time, all possibility of that ended. Because nobody wanted to spend time with a little girl who spent so much time in her head. She couldn’t always control it...and she had a vague recollection of Ifalna telling her that at first, it would be that way. The Planet spoke differently than someone did when they were speaking with you face to face. Its desires were more a translative emotional energy than verbosity...and she couldn’t always block it out. As she got older, it got easier to move between the concept of her identity as a Cetra and that of her own life; but it didn’t make Gaia any quieter, and she seemed to ever thirst for her input. And she didn’t understand it...she didn’t understand why someone like her should be privy to celestial knowledge...she didn’t understand why she was special. Because surely there was someone more qualified.

She was never allowed to wander far.

Aerith had never questioned it; the paid school she attended was right around the corner from her home, and Elmyra always seemed to have whatever they needed on hand. This wasn’t unduly unusual either. People in the slums often stayed close to home unless they were members of gangs or other syndicates. It was unwise to venture far in a city that was constantly changing; a city whose streets were eternally dangerous and whose populace always seemed to be on the brink of starvation and upheaval. Only those with exceptional educational scores managed to make it above-plate...and when they did, they usually never returned. Citizens below plate were offered stations in SOLDIER, but the act was discouraged because Shinra didn’t want members of criminal organizations infiltrating their ranks in large numbers. As such, only men with few connections and fewer family members were allowed SOLDIER status. Life in the slums was hard, but it was livable, and that was all that really mattered.

Shifting over her bed of flowers, she watched as colorful fronds bobbed in the breeze before focusing her thoughts inward once again. It was difficult to imagine her life any other way, mostly because she hadn’t been permitted to. Elmyra was adamant about never being overly curious or wishful, and her dreams had always seemed like a thing crushed before they were allowed to bloom. Her caretaker was constantly worried about Shinra’s influence, about how much they could get away with under the watchful eyes of the company. And there were times when Aerith hated _ herself _ for being such a hindrance to someone she loved so much...for hobbling an individual who might have had more if she hadn’t taken on such a burden. She was never allowed to know too much or ask too many questions, and maybe she was better off for it, but it never felt that way.

Her shadow was missing.

Tilting her head, Aerith acknowledged that the presence of the dark-haired Turk named Tseng was absent. This was unusual, because he’d seemed determined to dog her steps for the past several years. They spoke sometimes, though never anything overly important. When she’d started planting her flowers in the church, he was a near-constant shadow...never far but always fleeting. There were times when he seemed conflicted, when he appeared to try to do something, to follow-through with some vague unnamed task that was forever just beyond the grasp of his fingertips. Tseng was moody at times...unreadable and taciturn. There were moments when she was under the impression that he truly disliked her, and then there were days when he seemed to want to talk to her but couldn’t-or wouldn’t-allow himself to. She knew-logically-that there would come a time when Shinra decided she was too much of a liability to be allowed her freedom...every year she anticipated it more and more...but that time never came.

Over the past few years...the Planet was in a state of upheaval.

The amount of death Shinra incurred upon the populace had driven Gaia to extremes. Her presence was seething and virulent in the back of Aerith’s mind; omnipresent...resentful..._ grieving. _ And she could understand...she really could. Because with every country the company on the Upper Plate usurped, more and more death was fed into the Lifestream. She prayed because she had to at this point, because if she didn’t the Planet was bound to take irreversible action. With the renewal of the war with Wutai, the essence that kept the vitality of the Planet alive was seething with souls screaming for retribution. Sometimes it was almost deafening. You couldn’t toss aside the lives of so many and not face repercussions...as the war continued onwards she despaired of humanity...of the cruelties they forced upon one another.

...And then she had met Zack Fair.

As the memory of blue eyes and a raucous laugh seared across her psyche, Aerith’s hand trembled. Because Zack had given her love...something she never thought she would have. Those sapphire irises had stared into her soul and promised worlds and she had believed him...because he was telling the truth. And she had never met someone so unquestionably pure, so truly dedicated and honorable and determined. She’d never believed in love at first sight, but when it came to him..._ it was love at first sight. _ And Zack had given her a means to sell her flowers, given her hope and a sense of purpose. He had made her feel safe and happy and wanted in some other way than the fact that she was the remnants of a once-powerful race. Zack loved her because she was Aerith; he didn’t love her because she had the blood of an Ancient...none of that mattered to him. And each day they spent together burgeoned that sense of loving purpose...of importance… She told herself that _ this _was what it was like to be alive...this was what other people felt.

...And then Zack Fair died.

She didn’t see it, didn’t hear about it, and no one came to tell her the news. Tseng remained her shadow but his wordless guilt was a palatable thing...like a dark stain. And there was a time when she _ hated _ him for not saying anything, for thinking that it was unnecessary to tell her of something so terrible and heinous. But she knew Zack was dead; she felt when he died. It was a little bit like being torn in half; like she was a being made of feathers and stardust rent in twain and left scattered. It had nearly been enough to make her acquiesce to the Planet’s desires, to stop her from praying. Because there was no cruelty more terrible than taking the life of that which was innocent...of that which was trusting and beautiful and caring and _ hers. _ Aerith had spent days huddled in a corner of the church staring at the walls and wishing she could never be. And she _ hated _Sephiroth, hated him more and more with each death he took, with each report that came in from the tinny radio in Elmyra’s kitchen. And she wanted to take that hate and make it something tangible...something real and regrettable…

...But she didn’t.

She didn’t. And there were times where she wondered if she should have, but she couldn’t. Because everything about who she was rejected the idea of taking millions of lives for a life. Zack wouldn’t have wanted that, and she wouldn’t dishonor his memory by doing so. And so she prayed, and kept praying. Even as the Planet grew angrier and more resentful she prayed until they reached a common ground. She didn’t know if she was satisfied with it, but that was all she had. And now she was alone...kneeling in a dilapidated church where the love of her life had once laughed. Alone in the slums with no more answers than when she had started…alone without her tortured shadow that never seemed to know what he _ wanted _ . And when the handles to the door jiggled she simply sat back on her heels and watched...knowing that whatever came, she would still have to pray.

Because prayer was the only thing saving humanity from itself.

At first, she suspected it to be Tseng, but the heavy door was pushed open to reveal a girl, followed closely by two men.

Short brown hair, a face that was almost devoid of any expressions. Wearing a green jacket and matching cropped pants that were covered by so many belts, her greyish-white cape fluttered behind her with her steps as her black boots thudded heavily against the wood, somewhat similar to how Zack’s did, and yet wholly unfamiliar. One of the guys walking beside her wore a headscarf, looking pretty much like the gangsters that hung out here and there, especially the ones who kept wreaking havoc around the marketplace. As they came to a stand at the edge of the flowerbed, she observed the last of the trio. He was wearing the same garb the other man was wearing, though the state of it was much more kept and tidy, brown hair slicked back, and peering at her through his spectacles, Aerith could’ve mistaken her for someone from the upper-plate. Though why and what would bring someone from up there to the slums, and to her church much less was beyond her.

The Planet’s presence was still there, but it had fallen oddly quiet and somewhat peaceful at the strangers’ entry.

“I’m Elfé, this is Shears, and Fuhito.” The girl stated in a neutral voice, gesturing to her companions, and it was almost strange to hear the faint yet dual tone behind her words… not speaking their languages, but something different… Her concentration was broken when Elfé continued. “We’re the leaders of the AVALANCHE.”

Staying as she was amongst the flowers, she tried to sit up a little straighter, her green eyes gauging the faces she now had names to put to. Aerith was never one to judge people by their appearance, and she never really let what the Planet tell her; or how she could feel something-entirely out of the realm of the five senses-affect how she’d interact with others. Because, normal humans didn’t hear whispers inside their heads, and as much as she was the last remaining Cetra, she still wanted for a chance at living a normal life. But the dark vibe that seemed to almost be wafting off the bespectacled man was somewhat off-putting and a little frightening. She wasn’t receiving anything remotely like that from the other two. Deciding that staying quiet would probably be considered rude when the other occupants of the room had introduced themselves, the green-eyed brunette spoke jovially albeit quietly. “Hello. My name’s Aerith.”

Without hesitation, the girl who seemed to be the leader of the trio, if her doing all the talking while the others stood there-almost motionless except for the Shears guy-could mean anything like that, uttered flatly. “We know you’re an Ancient. The last remaining Cetra.” Elfé waved a hand to her companions, and they stepped backwards to sit on the first row of pews, watching the two of them keenly. “Why are you staying where Shinra can still get you? Don’t you know about the _ reforms _?” The last word was uttered somewhat mockingly, sarcastically, and it was the first hint of emotion from the individual standing in front of her.

Aerith had heard about reforms, on the radio and from what some people talked and shouted about here and there. Zack had never mentioned work, so it wasn’t really that odd that he hadn’t told her about it… then there was Tseng, but her shadow rarely talked about anything related to work. The leader of AVALANCHE interrupted her thought process. “Well, now you know. You’re free to go.”

Ducking her head, she looked down at her hands that were clasped loosely together on her lap. What Elfé had spoken out loud was something she had known but somehow, coming from someone else, it made it more real. It didn’t change her decision about it however.

Mrs. Gainsborough was old now, and even though she insisted that she didn’t need taking care of, it’d become apparent during the past few years that she was slowly falling behind on the things she didn’t have any trouble doing in the past. So, it wasn’t really a question, or a decision. Aerith loved her like her own mother, and just as she had taken care of her and raised her, she was going to take care of Elmyra, and with the money she got from selling her flowers, they’d be fine.

There was also the fact that if she left, no one was going to take care of the flowers...and she’d come to love her church. It was her secret hideout, her sanctuary for when she felt down, and when she felt happy. Green irises roamed over the yellow and white Easter lilies, further up the jagged edge of the fractured wooden planks, over the pews and to the heavy double doors.

She wasn’t going to leave.

Letting a cheerful smile stretch over her lips, Aerith shook her head, her braid swaying and brushing against her back as she did.

“You’re not leaving?” Elfé queried, the slight widening of her blue eyes the only indication of her surprise. She didn’t get the chance to open her mouth as Shears jumped to his feet. “So you want to hand over the Promised Land to them? Is that it?” The leader of the trio held out a hand to stop the man from approaching further. That didn’t silence him however, and for the first time in the entirety of their conversation, Fuhito tore his undivided attention from her to send a disappointed and disgusted look at their companion, before it quickly vanished behind a mask of calm and neutrality. “Reform or no reform, they haven’t stopped using the Mako reactors. You know what they are missy? They suck the Lifestream into their cores to process it into mako. They use it to light up their buildings up, the planet’s lifeforce, and when it’s used up, it ceases to be. That’s why everything around Midgar is dying, but you don’t know because you’ve never been there right? You haven’t seen the atrocities they’re wreaking upon the planet, holed up in your fancy li’l _ church _ -...”

“Stop it Shears.” The grey-caped brunette interrupted him, before turning to look at her. “I’m sorry that he got carried away. But what he says is ultimately true.” There was a pause. “We in AVALANCHE have been trying to stop Shinra from building more mako reactors and using the ones they already have. You are a Cetra. If the legends are true, you have some sort of connection with the planet that helps you find the Promised Land. If you join our side, we can enlighten the people, ask them to help us rally against Shinra and force them to stop the use of mako. With you, there’s no need for battles, for innocent blood being shed, but if you choose to stay, you’re saying yes to them sucking the life out of the planet.” Her blue eyes hardened, her face grim. “And I assure you, then there _ will _ be wars...just like in Wutai, but this time it will be all around the globe. Because if you chose to be indifferent toward them killing the planet slowly but inevitably, _ we _ ** _ won’t_ **.”

So much talk about reform.

It was a little bit hypocritical, because that was exactly what Shinra had promised; reform. A better way of life. Aerith wondered if the individuals standing before her understood how many times the people of Midgar had been given such promises to no avail. And she didn’t want to be a figurehead, standing at the front of a cause that might or might not succeed, people or not. That was a prideful, arrogant mindset...one she had seen too many times before. And what was to stop AVALANCHE from taking Shinra’s place once they got what they wanted? What was to stop _ these _ usurpers from being nothing but a mimicry of what they wanted to overthrow? Extremism ran both ways when it came to planetary stability, and you couldn’t force a people used to relying on technology back into the stone ages simply by guaranteeing their longevity. There was too much comfort that came from modernization, too much progression and advancement. And Aerith knew from personal experience that not every soldier was evil; Zack had shown her that. She knew that Zack would not approve of her joining a company that wanted to overthrow decent men following a cause they didn’t understand. And Aerith had been taught to value every life, not just the lives of those who were somewhat more cognizant of the Planet. You couldn’t trade the value of others for the value of something universal...human worth didn’t work that way. And there was no denying that the majority of Shinra’s army would rather die than join something they hadn’t been conditioned to follow…the concept of surrender in terms of soldier was ignorant to even consider.

_ “Zeal is a disgusting thing…”  
_

Tseng had uttered such a phrase once. It was during a military parade going on above-plate. Why he’d chosen to remain with her rather than attend was beyond her ability to comprehend. At the time, she hadn’t understood what he was saying. Now, gazing at ‘Elfé’, she did. And she felt a little bit sorry for her, for not understanding the way the world worked. For failing to comprehend that she could rally people in the slums and they would likely follow, but they would follow to more death, more slaughter. Because of something they ‘believed in.’ Just like SOLDIER had believed in Shinra...still believed in Shinra. And slaughter did not justify slaughter. _ Freedom. _ Aerith almost wanted to laugh at how pale an offering it was. Because what was freedom when you were being offered it in order to join a cause? Was that really freedom? And she wasn’t indifferent to the death of the Planet, she was _ cognizant _ of what was actually being presented to her; the reality of mechanisms. Zack had been part of a mechanism, and it had murdered him. And she didn’t want to do this, because everything pointed to the fact that talk could only get you so far, and belief perhaps further...but not by much...but she had to. Despite her neutral feelings for those before her, she would do it.

Because the Planet wanted her to.

It seemed like all eyes in the room were riveted on her, waiting for her answer, and Aerith almost wished for Zack or her shadow to have been there, or maybe to have appeared out of nowhere and cut this meeting that was somewhat forced on her short. That was wishful thinking however, and there was also the will of the Planet. Dusting the skirt of her sleeveless blue dress, the green-eyed brunette stood up, slowly raising her head to meet the blue eyes of the leader of the AVALANCHE.

“Well? What’s it going to be?” Elfé queried, a navy blue-clad hand rose to her hip, the only sign of her impatient.

Aerith had to remind herself yet again that it was for the Planet as she opened her mouth to answer. “Alright.” She paused, wanted to add that they promise her not to be the first party who opens fire, who takes offense, but she knew it would be futile. “Let’s do this.”

* * *

It had been harder than she’d imagined, taking care of Elmyra, tending to the flowers, and attending their secret meetings around the slums and on the upper plate at the same time. And frankly she hadn’t known how they planned to do all these away from her shadow’s eyes, but surprisingly, Tseng seemed to be busy at his work because his visits were less frequent and less scheduled than before. Thankfully, or unfortunately, AVALANCHE only approached her when the Turk watching over her wasn’t around, which meant instead of the familiar dark-haired man, she was being watched by total strangers whom she didn’t even know about. It was scary and made the world even more of an unsafe place if she wanted to go that far.

She still prayed all the time...and it seemed that it was enough to appease the Planet, because the voices were calmer than they had been. And maybe it was also due to the fact that she was some kind of a messenger now, someone who helped enlighten the people about the way everything worked, at least those who cared to know that is. Aerith wasn’t sure how effective her words were, but she didn’t let that stop her from being passionate about explaining it all, and it almost felt good to be believed in, to see Fuhito step up beside her and repeat what she’d been saying much to her surprise, naming a scientist called Bugenhagen as the reference for his words; a scientist who used to work with Shinra in the past who stepped away from the company when they decided to start using mako, for materia, weapons and everything else.

For once, in her lifetime, she felt that maybe, her being the last Cetra wasn’t much of a curse. And probably, when this was over, if Elmyra would agree with her, would come with her, they could visit wherever Bugenhagen lived...because maybe he’d know how it felt to be connected to the Planet; who maybe somehow shared her Cetra status, and maybe she wasn’t such a freak after all.

Something else she’d found during her meetings with people was that somehow, the people above the plate were much more inclined to believe her, were more sympathetic to her cause than those in the slums. It seemed as if they didn’t fear that this was probably going to end up in slaughter. And it confused her, because while none of those living below the plate had the accommodations these people had, Aerith knew they all secretly wanted for it; for the glamorous lifestyles they imagined people above the plate had. And from what she’d seen, it wasn’t really that glamorous. Sure, the streets were clean. She’d felt somewhat safer the couple of times they had been up there. The buildings seemed more sound and their facades weren’t crumbling. But she couldn’t get it, all the fuss and hustle and bustle...she couldn’t understand why some people had to be starving down there while they tried tooth and nail to get to walk upon the plate when the ones living on top of it seemed to be ready to leave their modernized lifestyles. It reminded her of her unanswered question, about why there was a need for a plate to separate them in the first place? They were all humans, so why couldn’t they all live together in peace and harmony? But then again, maybe that was her childish naivete. 

But on the day of the rally, it seemed like it wasn’t too naive to expect people to do this together, for slummer and those above the plate to work together toward the same goal. Fuhito was absent, had been for quite a while. But Shears and his gang of a hundred men were there. And so was Elfé, spearheading the movement. And it was so nice to work with people who appreciated her, who listened to her. So nice and she didn’t even have to worry about where she was going to sleep at night if she didn’t make it back from the church. A voice in the back of her head often whispered that something was off but surely nothing could be off in the face of such kind good-hearted people who were so determined to save the Planet just like she was. Surely nothing could go wrong in the face of so much unity. And maybe once SOLDIER saw the way they all worked together they would agree with them. Perhaps they would all be willing to give away their riches and money in the face of saving something that was so much bigger than they were.

It was a cold, bleak day that dawned upon them. The reactors only added more dampening to the overall muted effect of the gathering as a mass of people rallied around Shinra’s gates. There was a lot of excited chattering, mostly from the younger members of the population. Aerith could tell that some of them were ready for a fight, that they were hoping for it, and it saddened her. She was hoping that it wouldn’t come to that, that they could avoid unnecessary slaughter if at all possible. So when Elfé and Shears took to the makeshift podium they’d erected and started talking about AVALANCHE’s goals, she couldn’t help but feel proud to be a part of something so important. It seemed that the Planet agreed as well; it was more dormant and more peaceful than she had ever felt it before. The gathered masses rallied to their leader’s declarations; roared with triumph and booed appropriately whenever Shinra was mentioned. It was only when the rally had been going on for several minutes that Aerith felt that something was wrong. There was no outpouring of soldiers from the gate trying to subdue the crowd...really, there was hardly any attention to their protests at all. Here and there, a lone soldier would roam past the gates and stop to survey them...but little more than that. Each ‘sentinel’ was very apparently nervous, despite the fact that they tried not to let it show...and it seemed to incense the masses further.

It felt like they were being ignored.

Perhaps an hour later, a prickle at the back of her mind indicated the ingress of perhaps something-or someone-with slightly more importance. The crowd had become restless and agitated in their state of attentional bereavement. From her place next to Shears with her back currently to the entryway, she couldn’t see who was approaching, only that their presence made the gathering fall silent somewhat. Eventually, Elfé was forced to turn around to take note of their guest, and Aerith followed her gaze. She knew, immediately, that the individual before them was not a soldier. Staring into rubicund eyes, she wasn’t entirely sure that they were human at all. There was a coldness emanating from beneath dark leathers, a maroon cape, and ebon-colored locks that seemed to chill her to the bone. No nervousness emanated from him...no sense of trepidation or worry. Merely a black...billowing sense of depthless calm like the inky depths of an oceanic trench.

“Shinra finally graces us with its presence.” Elfé said smoothly, recovering first.

Scarlet irises flicked momentarily to the greyish-caped woman before immediately leaving her to sweep over the crowd. Gold-plated boots made a soft clanking noise on the concrete as the mysterious individual finally came to a halt and folded his arms over his chest...one dark brow winging upwards in an expression that was almost bored. Sanguine lips parted just slightly, and Aerith wondered how in the world he expected everyone to hear him if he wasn’t going to yell, but the minute he spoke his voice carried startlingly far.

“You have all been informed of Shinra’s goals for the future.” He began calmly, and his voice was strong but flat...powerfully toneless. “And yet you still seem determined to go against its efforts to bring about a better future.”

“Shinra has borne nothing but murderers and poverty.” Shears scoffed. “You are killing the Planet with the use of the Lifestream...with the souls of those who have moved on from this world.”

“Administration plans to shut down the reactors.” was the continuously deadpan response. “But since you seem so determined to force unrest and dissension among those we only strive to unite, I have a proposal for you.”

“Where is your General? Was he not..._ gracious _ enough to grace us with his presence?” was the suave reply. “And who are you?”

For a mere moment, it seemed as if some terrible pain crossed those aquiline features. Aerith was struck with the sense of both terrible loss and terrible hope. It woke within her the reminder that the employees of Shinra were still people...despite their facade of iron and steel...despite their distance from those around them.

“The General regretfully was not able to attend” was the cold return. “I am Vincent Valentine, your current assigned liaison.” A tilt of the head, and it was the most predatory thing Aerith had ever seen. “Shall we talk? Or shall I leave you to your...shouting?”

Shears seemed to disagree while Elfé was silent, her blue eyes calculating in a way that was familiar. And suddenly something clicked inside Aerith’s head-or maybe in her soul-because the faint dual tone she’d heard in her voice back at the church-and she still sometimes did-was also present in Vincent Valentine’s voice; though it was more in tune with it than that of the leader of AVALANCHE’s was. It seemed like that niggling thing she had felt at the back of her head was also an indication of the old soul that seemed to coexist within the crimson-eyed man’s body. And just like the one residing inside brunette standing beside her was in pain, Valentine’s too was in the same anguish that had fleeted over his now impassive features. And it made her kind of sad to acknowledge that...that something was bothering the man-who was probably offering them some peace entreaty-to the extent that was enough to bother something that seemed to be eons old so.

So, instead of her two other companions, Aerith stepped forward, clasped her hands together in front of her, and tried to show their good intentions instead of the hostility that seemed to have been brewing inside the populace for so long. “I’m Aerith Gainsborough. I’m speaking on my behalf to tell you that I’m sorry to hear that your General wasn’t able to attend.” She paused for a moment, when something shifted inside the features facing her yet again, but what it was, the last of the Cetras couldn’t tell as it was hidden just as quickly as it had appeared. “Now, on the behalf of those concerned with the future of the planet, before you go ahead and offer your proposal, may I ask something?”

Those ruby irises observed her, in a manner that was somewhat similar to how Tseng did when he thought she was up to something shady, before there was a curt nod.

Letting a small smile curl her lips, she continued. “Thank you. We’re concerned about what source Shinra plans to use instead of mako to supply the electrical demands of the city? Both on the plate and those below?”

Her voice was nearly drowned by the sudden onset of shouts as the slummers started yelling questions about how their living conditions were never going to be improved, asking why the renovations-which she had only come to know of during one of their meetings only recently-were taking so long, before Elfé raised a hand to silence everyone, ordering calmly yet just as powerfully as Valentine. “Let him speak.”

“It’s really a very simple answer.” was the slow reply. “We intend to use solar and wind power.” He raised a hand as a crowd of people from the lower plate began to protest loudly. “Energy is transferable through considerable distances. There will be an equal amount of electricity for all parts of the plate...upper and lower.” That impassive crimson gaze swept the masses again. “As for why your projects are taking so long, protests don’t help matters, and the populace is suspicious of SOLDIER at every turn. I’m not saying we haven’t earned it, but if you expect progress, you must acquiesce to progress. We cannot work while you’re flooding the streets with rioters, and the General refuses to put his men in danger so that you may sate your bloodlust.”

“How are you any better than what Shinra once was if you cannot lay down your arms and work with us? Listen to us? We’re not asking for your subservience, we’re asking for teamwork. Our promises cannot be kept if you do not allow us to fulfill them. It’s as simple as that.” He paused. “There are...further parameters to our proposal, should you allow it. Administration has acquiesced to the idea of representatives of those chosen by the populace to represent the voice of the people on the Board. You will be allowed to vote for your representatives, and their say during meetings will be just as relevant as those of executives.” A shift...and Aerith was suddenly aware of the fact that despite the strength in his tone, the man before them wasn’t accustomed to speaking to crowds. He didn’t seem nervous, but the more he spoke, the wearier he appeared. “Reversing a governmental infrastructure takes time.” He fixed Elfé with a pointed look. “And it has to work in a way that will prevent the economy from collapsing more than it already is. These things don’t happen overnight, or even in a year. Surely you know that.”

Silence settled over the crowd. Because despite their succinctness, Valentine’s words had addressed all of their questions with logical answers. Aerith could only hope now-and offer prayer to the Planet-that those who had accompanied them looking for fight wouldn’t start doing something rash that could thwart their only chance at peace; at a better future. Beside her, her grey-caped companion seemed to be contemplating those words, her blue eyes never leaving their liaison’s, before opening her mouth. “It’s been more than a year since Shinra promised reform, and we haven’t seen you start any projects pertaining to your plans for the substitutes you’ve mentioned. How long does it take for you to start shutting down the reactors? And it’s not only Midgar we’re concerned with, there are more of them across the globe. Not to mention SOLDIER’s use of mako for weaponry, materias and enhancing your forces. Are you willing to really put a stop to all these? And how can we trust you? How can we trust you to keep your words when it’s so easy for power and money to get to your heads and forget the promises you’ve made, when there’s no one to watch over what Shinra does?” Elfé’s hand fell to the hilt of her katana, and the soldiers that had been patrolling only minutes ago who were now gathered around the crimson-caped man tensed visibly, stealing glances while fidgeting with their weapons, and Aerith couldn’t help but feel the same tension being mirrored in the crowd that had gathered behind her back. The blue-eyed brunette seemed to sway a little, before righting herself, and she understood that the gesture hadn’t been out of anger or anything but something else, though what she didn’t know. When the leader of AVALANCHE spoke again, her voice was somewhat strained. “How do you plan to elect these representatives? Through vote? And who’s to say that they don’t end up being discarded like the Mayor of Midgar people chose all those years ago?” There was the hissing rush of breath from beside her, the hand covering the crisscrossing ribbon around the hilt tightening even more, and Aerith shifted closer to her companion. Looking at Shears, she found him mirroring her gesture, glancing worriedly at their mutual comrade before watching the men surrounding Valentine with determination.

Despite their efforts at intimidation, the man was unmoved. If anything, he seemed disappointed, as if looking at a group of children rather than a sea of angry adults. He shot the men who had come to surround him a cold and deprecating look and they quickly stepped away.

“Stand down.” He said frigidly. “I didn’t ask for an escort, and I don’t need one.” He returned his attention to Elfé. “I can’t give you promises you’ll trust.” He said blandly. “The fact that you’re nailing the truth home doesn’t help you, and it doesn’t help your people. For a year, we have attempted to work with the people, despite rebuffs on every front. And you have failed to realize that the men behind Shinra’s walls are just as innocent as the men standing around you, but you separate them because it’s easier for you to think of them as less than human because they come from something terrible. Our men believe in change. You all believe in change, and so do we.” His hand left the holster of his weapon, and that visage of stiff impassiveness melted into one of disgust. “And don’t preach to me about _ distrust. _I’ve been here longer than Shinra has been in power, I know their atrocities. The only difference between me and you is that I’ve chosen to work with what I can to bring about change instead of rallying the masses to a cause that might bring them death. So keep this in mind.” He pitched his voice to reach the back of the crowd.

“They have brought you here with the promise of peace, but even now your leader grasps her weapon while I relinquish mine. What does that tell you? And some of you thirst for blood, as recompense for families you have lost, and nothing can repay that. But I will not fight again, Shinra will not fight again. So thirst all you want.” Crimson eyes snapped back to Aerith, and the revulsion in them was a fire dredged from the deepest of voids. When Vincent spoke again, his tonalization was dualized, but no less fierce. “But _ we _ will not raise our swords against you, this will be your slaughter alone. You will take lives and we will not.” A glance, a swift gesture, and the soldiers who had scrambled to his aid slowly lowered their weapons before placing them on the ground and backing away. Another flick of the wrist and they retreated fully, disappearing towards the entrance to HQ. “So I will ask you _ one more time, _ will you negotiate, or will you slaver at the mouth for nothing? Because I don’t have time to bandy words with those who will not hear any. The people deserve better than that.”

Elfé stepped forward, swayed yet again but steadied herself once more, her hand having left the hilt of her sword the moment Vincent had used it against them, and Aerith could’ve sworn she’d seen anger and determination flare in blue eyes for a moment before they turned ice-cold yet again. “Your question is not one that I have the right to answer…” She trailed off uncharacteristically, shoulders hunching forward before she seemed to become aware of it before continuing. “If you want to earn people’s trust you need a referendum, both to get your answer and possibly to select those envoys. It’s what people have to choose, and I will not rob them of their right.” The grey-caped woman turned around, facing those who had rallied with them to the gates. “Everyone! You all heard what this man said here! AVALANCHE never intended for this movement, or any of its movements to be tainted with bloodshed and slaughter.” Their leader paused yet again. “This man claims that your voice has been heard, and that they’re bringing about a change in the ways things are done. But let’s make their leader and every single innocent personnel who works for them hear the voice of our innocent people as we give them another chance while we leave.” A navy-blue clad fist rose to the sky as the blue-eyed individual called loud and clear. “Referendum!”

Shouts, yells and choruses of ‘Referendum’ erupted from the crowd, raising their clenched hands to the sky every time they uttered in unison, the booming voice possibly loud enough to carry to the lower levels of the skyscraper before them. Aerith couldn’t help but find herself chanting with them inside her heart, feeling like she’d-_ they’d _ accomplished something monumental today, something worth fighting for; worth all the trouble and anxiety of what to tell Elmyra if she asked about why she was coming home late on some nights. She could understand now that despite her misgivings in the beginning, the Planet had been right to ask her to do this. And she couldn’t help but look proudly at those who had accompanied them as they started scattering slowly, to let a bright joyous smile stretch across her lips before turning to look to her companions.

It was right at that moment that all stamina seemed to leave Elfé, as she slumped forward, dangerously close to falling off their makeshift podium only for Shears to catch her. Both of them called the brunette’s name with equally worried voices, but their comrade seemed to have lost consciousness. And Aerith didn’t know she could panic so badly… there was the urge to shout for help, to turn around and ask the crimson-eyed man watching their retreat to make true on one of his words… but then again, why do that when she could try and heal her, herself? For once, she could actually put to good use what she’d been taught by her mom. So, she closed her green eyes, clasped her hands together against her chest and focused. Heard the soothing voices at the back of her head get more clear every time she repeated the mantra inside her heart, to feel their soothing sensation brush against her consciousness and soul before the Healing wave manifested itself around her comrade in shimmering tendrils of green.

Elfé stirred, the arm looped around Shears neck tightening before she regained herself slowly, stood back up on her feet, before watching both of them with a stern look that spoke murder if they were to mention it to others. Though that didn’t stop Shears from worrying, it did make him blush somewhat and scratch the back of his head when the blue gaze landed on him. “H-how?” The subject of their attention queried, and got her answer from the head-scarf wearing guy. “Don’t ask me, ask Aerith.”

Gazing at the last of the Cetras, the leader of AVALANCHE’s face softened somewhat into an expression of gratitude, and it was even more of a surprise and an accomplishment to understand the look she was witnessing in those sapphire irises; some sort of loyalty, of being indebted somehow and an unspoken oath to repay said debt. And it really didn’t work that way. She hadn’t done it for any other reason because she cared. Because every life was beautiful just like how no one spec of sand was similar to the other, and each and everyone of them were needed to make the shores beautiful, each soul added to life something others couldn’t. And that was the reason she disregarded the intensity of the gaze at her back, or the niggling feeling in her head to smile jovially at her companion; and how that gesture was mirrored on the usually impassive face as Elfé uttered a quiet ‘Thank you.’ was enough to make her grin almost.

Almost.

Because she really wanted Zack to be here with her to celebrate their small victory together. Because she knew that in the end, Ifalna, her father, Elmyra and Zack would all be proud of her.


	4. Chapter Three

The acoustic of the whipping blades of a helicopter perched atop a meadow. The tumultuous wave of golden stalks as they walked through the roiling sea of grass, the black hull of the giant chopper getting bigger and bigger as though it was a blotch of black ink seeping into a tapestry. The constant urge to turn around and run in the opposite direction, to run away like some child and go back to the familiarity of their isolated sanctuary. The warmth of a pale hand tethering him to the reality as Genesis watched over his shoulder and saw a child version of him run amok; saw a younger phantasm of him standing just at the edge of the treeline, observing him with equally intense azure eyes as though beckoning him to go back. And the redhead had to look away, gazed upon equally intense beryl irises that were watching him back, both questioningly and reassuring. The shiver that ran down his spine wasn’t delicious like some brighter times; it was cold, similar to the frigid caress of fingers of fear, their sharp claws retracted still.

Onto the aircraft they were met by a dozen Turks, guns at the ready, and the scarlet-haired ex-First barely resisted the urge to sneer as they cuffed his lover’s wrist to his father’s; the gunslinger holding his progeny’s hand despite Sephiroth’s utter discomfort and seemingly Vincent’s own. He’d barely registered as he was cuffed to some other Turk,  _ Rude _ -who was staring ahead-wearing his ridiculous sunglasses even though they were inside, probably believing it made him look somehow shady. Rude’s colleagues-if that was what members of the Department of Administrative Research called themselves in the first place-joined them inside, with the majority of the entourage standing in the back section.   


The former Commander had to bite his tongue not to say anything sarcastic, not to harangue the crimson-caped marksman sitting in front of him about how none of this was necessary; not to remind everyone that if they truly wanted to escape, there was no need for this  _ elaborate _ ploy. That they could still summon their weapons midair and be done with the whole airplane and fly away when whatever remained of the helicopter crashed with its remaining passengers in the ocean below.

They’d been told to bring nothing, no personal belongings; and Genesis couldn’t help but remember how long it’d taken for him to let go of Rapier’s hilt this morning; how hard it had been to tear his eyes away and turn around and follow Vincent out the door. There was the possibility that they could still summon them, but Midgar was really on the other side of the globe from Wutai.

It was a lengthy flight, even with the chopper tearing away toward the Eastern Continent, and the redhead couldn’t really make his mind shut up and his body relax so he could get some shut-eye before he was forced to face the reason of his frenzied thoughts and his anxiety. The older ex-SOLDIER decided, for some reason, that not looking at his silver-haired partner was a good idea. Instead, he kept his gaze riveted on the window and let his thoughts wander. There was the urge to wade into the familiarity of their mental link, to look across the aisle and watch those beautiful brilliant irises filled with recognition, with understanding and reciprocation, but he didn’t,  _ couldn’t _ .

It didn’t really matter how long it took for them to arrive. In his opinion, he and Sephiroth had a lot of time on their hands, and for both of them, it was a relative thing. It really didn’t matter that once Midgar came into his view, Genesis was accosted with an urge to scream at the top of his lungs, wanted to drag Rude with him into the cockpit and turn the chopper around, so they could go back to Funaraoi and never return.   


Because never-after he’d woken up in the solitude of his bleak cell-had he hoped to lay eyes on the metropolis expanding below them again. Pushing it all down, the former Commander tried to get away from the window only to find himself pushing against the bald Turk before giving up on the attempt and looking at the slab of metal that made the flooring beneath his feet instead.   


There was the reverse acceleration of the aircraft as it slowed down, the slightest feeling of weightlessness as it made its slow but sure descent onto what was possibly the helipad of the Shinra building.

Genesis tried his damnedest to ignore the litany of  _ No, no, no _ blaring through his head like some sort of alarm.

The sensation of coming to a full stop. Vincent and Sephiroth standing up in front of him, and the scarlet-haired ex-SOLDIER followed suit only to have his right arm yanked down somewhat. The clink and glimmer of the metal chain of the cuffs. His lover being escorted outside toward the back among the entourage of Turks and the former Commander suddenly felt afraid. Wanted to run after him and cling to the pale arm like some fucking child who had social anxiety, who had claustrophobia and at the same time felt utterly and thoroughly lost and scared. Gritting his teeth though, he stood his ground. Waited impatiently with restless feet tapping against the metal floor until Rude finally stood up. Finally out through the sliding door, and he was swarmed by more men clad in black jackets and matching trousers; more Turks.   


And it really didn’t matter.   


What mattered was the fact that he’d stepped onto this very roof probably a billion times, both when he’d been going to missions and returning from them; during the times of idiotic teenage bravado when they used to sneak up here to get away from everything, for some ephemeral but no less valuable moments… all three of them. What mattered was that these all were moments borrowed from the life of another man, some person named Genesis Rhapsodos, who used to be a Soldier First Class.   


And Genesis wanted to be that person so badly…wanted to go back to the familiarity of that life, to shut his eyes-that were getting a little watery-tight and wake up from the nightmare that had happened to him and Sephiroth for the past couple of years. Genesis wanted them to be who they used to be, with all those happy moments, and those times of childish bickering and hateful taunts; wanted to go back to the oblivion of not knowing the dark true nature of the company he’d served, wanted to go to that day at the park and somehow freeze time, create some loop so they’d live that day over and over again… He wanted to go back to a time that they were still as happy and carefree as three First Class soldiers like their past selves could be… a time when Genesis didn’t know degradation, and Sephiroth didn’t have to go to Hojo everyday for reconditioning because of their relationship, and _ Angeal… _ And a time that Angeal wasn’t dying… that Angeal wasn’t joining his deceased protege-as much as the former Commander hated the boy’s guts; and Gillian… And it was so jarring…so impractical, unrealistic, ridiculous, and pathetic… and  _ so _ saccharinely sentimental he wanted to be violently sick, wanted to crumple to the ground and weep, or to throw a tantrum…to try and run away so he could jump over the railing to his demise, or maybe the Turks would gun him down…   


The only thing that stopped him was the slight tilt of a silvery head far ahead in front of him as Sephiroth turned somewhat to look over his shoulder,  _ at him _ … and Genesis nearly fell to his knees… because he could only imagine how much harder this was for his lover. To go back to the place the younger ex-First could’ve almost called home, where he’d lived the entirety of twenty three years…a lifetime…and now it was all beyond their reach… This life, their lives… as it could’ve been, maybe should’ve been had he maintained his distance… If he hadn’t been as bold and cheeky as he used to be…   


It was a really legitimate question, that was this all worth it? All the anguish, sorrow and hatred? All the wasted seconds and minutes either spent robbing others of time, or being robbed of it themselves? Weren’t they both better off staying ignorant, oblivious, apart and loveless?

Genesis wanted to run forward, push the throng of suits aside and yank on his lover’s collar so he could yell in his face and ask him these questions that were driving him insane.   


It was painful… and that pain was compounded by how he knew it was hurting the younger man walking ahead of him, probably even more so than it was hurting him; to walk among these familiar corridors after so long and seeing them in their neat sleek condition that never seemed to change. To notice the extra security measures Administration had taken for these halls to be so devoid of personnel, because seeing both of them back in the heart of Shinra’s empire was the surefire way for their Utopia to descend into the hellish flames of anarchy and ruin. Genesis wasn’t at all opposed to the idea, because this was bound to happen at one point. Both Vincent and Angeal were too naive not to see it coming. Not now, not in ten years, twenty or more…but it was inevitable.

Entropy.

They were stuffed into two separate elevators, and that was when the fear of being separated and put into solitary confinement again rammed into him like a freight train. The button for sixty-seventh floor was pressed, and suddenly he wanted to claw his way out, or up,  _ maybe using a Firaga wasn’t all that bad…they’d fall to their demise at the end of the elevator well, for sure…but no, _ he wasn’t going to die because he had to rend Vincent  _ limb from limb _ if he could, next time he saw the gunslinger if his fear would come to pass.   


The shrill ding signalling the opening of the doors, and the slight glimmer of hope inside his heart wasn’t enough to overpower his anxiety as he saw the said gunman and his son standing at the fork in the corridor, waiting for  _ them _ .   


The fact that every movement was thoroughly choreographed seemed so blatantly obvious now. And Genesis wanted to laugh so hard it would be too painful to breathe; an ugly dark thing because  _ now  _ he knew why it had taken them five days to send a helicopter to Funaraoi to pick them up. Because they’d been planning, and of course. The former Commander acknowledged bitterly that it was surprising that they hadn’t been sedated and bound into straitjackets like  _ lunatics, freaks and the war criminals _ that they ‘were’. Maybe he ought to thank the crimson-eyed gunman because it was entirely possible and like him to have pulled some strings with his meager authority to grant them a small modicum of  _ dignity _ .

Further ahead, a sharp turn, and inside Hollander’s lair… and Rude had to drag him forward for a moment back there because  _ No, no, no, not the room where he’d been hospitalized after his episode at that briefing session all those eons ago… _

_ ‘...My paths are wrought with sunless ‘morrows, and as bright as you are...these thoroughfares are darker still.’ _

He could see his silver-haired companion whispering something to his sire in hushed clipped tones, his lover’s posture reflecting Genesis’ own reluctance and hesitation from moments ago. The crimson-caped marksman faltered in his steps, turned to look at him over his shoulder while both their entourages halted; and the former Commander didn’t want to imagine how he possibly looked like some deer caught in the headlights, all wide eyes and a too-shocked expression fleeting over his features. With self-loathing flooding his psyche, he admitted that being around his partner all the time-where he didn’t need to constantly hide behind a mask and inside some impenetrable fortress-had lulled him into some sense of security that was making it awfully hard to revert back to his old ways...to put his rusty defense mechanisms back into place, as self-destructive as they might have been...to pull his facade up, even if it was dusty and cracked...to act like his past nonchalant arrogant self, even if it was just for the show.

The sense of forward movement, of neglecting what had just happened for the sake of convenience and security. And Genesis really didn’t care at this point, even if  _ it was just for the show. _ Inside the room, the barest accommodations for the two of them; cots, there was the bathroom at the corner as the redhead remembered it, and that was all.   


Tseng seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, reciting the conditions of their  _ confinement… _ because that’s what it really was, and the blue-eyed ex-First couldn’t believe that he’d forced them into incarceration yet again...forced Sephiroth into chains… Some small voice whispered that it had been a decision they had arrived at together, but it wasn’t really enough to assuage the amount of guilt he felt…   


The clink of metal, the disappearance of the weight around his wrist and the former Commander wasn’t really listening to what the black-haired Turk was saying as he rubbed his wrist subconsciously, looking around as the black suits started filtering out through the door. More and more, until Tseng too, was gone.   


Now, it was only the three of them. The breath he didn’t know he was holding left him in a rush, and the urge to slump to the ground and sit there for a couple of minutes was  _ almost  _ too strong to overpower. Finally tearing his eyes away from the entryway, he gazed at Sephiroth before turning to raise a questioning eyebrow at Vincent. “I assume they didn’t tell your lover boy, wonder-...”

Right then, the door slid open on his left to reveal the man of the hour.

“Speak of the devil.” Genesis commented blithely, taking into account the fact that his childhood friend was currently looking like death warmed over; haggard like some man in his fifties returning from graveyard shift, and what…

“Can anyone explain what’s going on here?” The General spoke irritatedly.

“Well, hello to you too-...” It really seemed like he couldn’t stop himself.

“Shut up Genesis.” The wielder of Buster Sword spat, his blue eyes fixed on the gunslinger. “What are they doi-...”

“Dial down the madness, will you?” Genesis spat just as irritatedly, standing in front of his childhood friend, ready to push him back if need be. “We know you’re degrading, we’re here to help. Now if you can suck it up and take your own advice about discussing things  _ logically _ , I think we can all talk.” And finally, Angeal’s undivided attention-or ire in this case, whatever it was-switched to him. It was really ridiculous that their second meeting after his and Sephiroth’s incarceration with their mutual former comrade had to be under such circumstances; being inside some room in the labs, while they were locked in a silent battle of wills, i.e. the childish game of who would look away first. Refusing to back down, the former Commander quirked an eyebrow, and it was hard to push down the triumphant smirk from curling his lips when the First class soldier finally crossed muscular arms over his chest, before returning his sapphire irises to the ex-Turk standing behind the redhead.   


“Fine. I’m calm, now can you tell me  _ Vincent _ what they’re doing here?”

The redhead watched out of the corner of his eye as Sephiroth seemed to dither for a moment before sitting down on one of the cots. His face was unreadable...and it struck him for a minute that it was the first time that he’d seen such a closed-off expression coming from him in a very long time. Those emerald irises were a mask of concentration, of distance. At the same time, the younger man’s posture spoke volumes in contrast with his taciturn visage. Stiff, almost vibrating with tension...every so often his eyes would flick to the door...almost as if gauging its stability should an escape be necessary. He wondered-not for the first time-what it was going to cost the former General to come back to HQ...what it had already cost him. Reverting his focus to the forefront, he supposed he ought to feel a little smug that Vincent looked rather like he’d been set on fire and left to slowly burn, but he didn’t. The former Turk looked apprehensively resigned, like this was something he’d been expecting and dreading. A black-clad palm was raised hesitantly, as if wanting to reach forward, before its owner apparently thought better of it and then snatched it back.   


“I told them,” was the flat response. “Because I didn’t know what else to do.” Onyx-wreathed lashes dusted pale cheeks as the gunslinger closed his eyes. “And because they deserved to know before…before it’s too late. I couldn’t do that to them.”   


There was a sudden movement, and Genesis startled as Sephiroth swiftly stood before apparently not knowing what to do with himself. A slightly self-conscious expression settled over his visage before smoothing itself away again. He took a hesitant step forward, and then another before coming to stand beside the redhead...angled just slightly away as the blue-eyed man felt a slender-fingered hand press against the small of his back...grasping the fabric of his shirt in a loose fist. The former Commander immediately recognized it as an anchoring gesture...one of sought nearness. The other two men watched somewhat distractedly before returning to their discussion.

“I didn’t ask them to come, they volunteered.” Vincent continued. “And...I couldn’t say no.”   


Angeal’s blue eyes darted between the three of them, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times before sighing exasperatedly and pacing in front of the entrance. While their mutual former comrade was contemplating his words, Genesis snaked a hand between him and Sephiroth to mirror his lover’s gesture, but not with the same intentions, but as reassurance, as an indication that he wasn’t going anywhere. The dark-haired First chose right that moment to come to an abrupt halt and faced them yet again, irritation twisting his features yet again.

“Volunteer? Volunteer for what? To save me? To look for a cure? Genesis you know well that there’s no cure.” A brief pause as burning blue eyes turned to gaze at the ebon-haired gunslinger.   


Genesis used it to start talking before his childhood friend had the chance to start beating the eldest of them verbally. “Look at me, ‘Geal. I’m not degrading anymore, maybe we could figu-...”

“-Hollander’s dead! They found his remains inside an incinerated building in the slums! What do you expect from a handful of lab assistants? He was the last one involved with the Jenova project!” An accusatory finger was pointed in his direction, though the blue eyes of its owner were troubled, flicking between him and Vincent as if unable to choose who to blame. “And I’m going to ignore the fact that you’re putting yourself up for experimentation…” The finger turned to the gunman standing beside them. “And that  _ you  _ had no problems with it… I’m disappointed in you.”   


The sharp egress of breath coming from their side was the only sign that those last words had hit somewhere hard inside the crimson-eyed individual. The former Commander could feel ire starting to build up inside him, felt the anger mirrored in his partner as the loose fist against his back tightened, the tension seeming to waft off his lover in waves. Stepping a little toward Valentine, Genesis spat. “It’s my life! And if I’m-”   


“-This is non-negotiable Genesis, so don’t even start!”   


Sephiroth opened his mouth, but Vincent sent him a warning glance, crimson eyes widening in a plea for his silence. Frowning, Genesis glanced confusedly between the two of them, but when his lover shot him a somewhat apologetic glance, he understood. Sephiroth didn't have a place in this argument, not unless Angeal verbally engaged him. This was an agreement involving the three of them, but the silver-haired man was cognizant of the fact that he did have the right to speak up because Vincent was the one who had chosen to tell them, and Genesis was the one who had volunteered. There was also the singular fact that he and Angeal were childhood friends and Vincent was his lover; the green-eyed ex-First wasn't half as close to the General as the two of them, and his opinions might do more harm than good. The redhead’s partner instead demonstrated his support by putting a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly as he did so.   


“I’m not going to stand in his way.” Vincent replied, and this time there was a quiet vein of passion behind his tone. “Because I'm a selfish man who is selfishly in love with you. And I'd like to think we've improved on our ethics enough that experimental procedures are less invasive and painful and more respectful. That's not what Shinra is anymore. Every single person in this room cares about you, please Angeal,  _ let us.” _

Genesis knew that it wasn't that simple. That the dark-haired man before him was in the throes of degradation and that would make him much less logical. It was painful to acknowledge it...to see it. He didn't let it show on his face because if he did, he wouldn't be able to keep pushing this. The scarlet-haired man knew how it felt to resign yourself to death...how permanent an emotion it was.   


Something flickered in Angeal’s eyes, and it was almost painful for the scarlet-haired ex-First to see it, the infinitesimal glimmer of hope before it was buried under the myriad of emotions his usually more grounded former comrade was feeling. The dark-haired First let out a bitter uncharacteristic laugh, the expression jarring on aquiline features. His childhood friend’s shoulders hunched forward as he stepped backwards slightly, his trembling gloved hands rising in front of him in what appeared to be a subconscious manner before the General of Shinra army quickly clutched them into fist and lowered them to his sides.   


It was too painful to watch...too agonizingly familiar, and his fingers that were holding onto Sephiroth’s shoulder twitched involuntarily, his grip tightening somewhat before the redhead forced it to go slightly lax. “Angeal…” Genesis pleaded, hating himself for how supplicative his voice sounded, but maybe, just maybe it could work this way. Stepping away from his own partner and toward Vincent’s lover, the former Commander raised his hands slightly, palm up in a gesture he hoped to register in the dark-haired First’s irritable haze as truce; as some sort of peace, he continued. “You don’t have to go through this alone like I did… We’re all here for you… and no one can say for sure this would work, but if it didn’t… don’t push us away.” Looking over his shoulder at Sephiroth, he smiled somberly before reverting his attention back to the man in front of him. “We’re your friends-...”

“-You’ve all lost your minds!” Angeal spat, and Genesis couldn’t simply hold his anger at bay anymore. “Don’t pretend that being back in this place isn’t affecting you. Look at him.” Sapphire eyes cut away to his lover, and the former Commander wanted so badly to punch the dark-haired First in the nose just so he’d just shut up.   


“Stop it!” Reigning in his anger and using it to shove the General back, the redhead snapped. “Don’t you dare!” His azure eyes flashed with warning. “Sephiroth is where I draw the line! I don’t know if you’re just too far gone to notice what you’ve been doing but look at you! Where are your dreams and honor you kept beating into our heads? From the moment you’ve stepped inside you’ve been hurting everyone-...”   


“Then let’s make it-...” A hand twisted in his collar as Angeal retaliated and cut him off yet again. Behind him, Genesis could hear the minute rustle of clothes, but he kept his eyes trained on the angry visage staring him down.   


“Stop cutting me-...”

“He’s been making an army of Genesis copies!” The dark-haired First spat, pushing him back. “There…. Now you see why I didn’t- _ don’t _ want you here? Hollander was using your blood to turn Soldiers into copies...your copies Gen!”   


The redhead couldn’t stop how his breath escaped his lips in an overloud rush, the words like a stab to the gut, and he stumbled backwards as if physically hit. The surprise and disbelief pushed through to the forefront of his mind and onto his face. Angeal’s words barely registered against the litany of  _ No _ inside his head.   


“I take it that Vincent didn’t tell you…” was the quiet utterance, and it wasn’t really innocent at all.   


Genesis couldn’t help but look up at the aforementioned man, the astonishment he was feeling slowly but surely twisting into betrayal, and with that, all the roiling emotions he’d been bottling up seemed to rise up behind the dam he’d built inside him.

Vincent made a strangled noise and blazing beryl irises cut to him. At the same time, there was a harsh yank from behind as the former General drew the redhead back. He went with it, because the look in his lover’s eyes was so vicious he honestly didn't want to give him a reason to hit Angeal. Beryl irises swiftly flicked to Vincent, who made a strangled noise.

“You and I” Sephiroth hissed. “Will have  _ words.” _

Something flickered across those perfect features then, something familiar and terrible, but it was quickly gone. The silver-haired man spun about and marched them to a cot, firmly but gently urged Genesis down onto it before kneeling before him and reaching upwards to cup his face.   


“Genesis…” He said quietly. As if from a great distance, the blue-eyed man heard himself gasp...felt the rushed expulsion of air as it escaped his lungs.  _ “Genesis…”  _ When the older man still failed to respond, it seemed to be enough to force the green-eyed ex-SOLDIER’s ire to the surface. Yanking himself upwards and to his feet, Sephiroth made a jerky movement towards his father, fingers clenching and unclenching before he shuddered and went still. “You could have  _ told  _ us.” he said flatly. “You could have told us and it wouldn’t have changed a thing.” Emerald irises focused on Angeal. “And you, using that kind of information just to divert the focus from them trying to save you, because you’re  _ afraid  _ to hope-” The former General cut himself off, swallowed rapidly. “I know what it’s like to lose someone I love.” He said in a low voice. “You’ll remember what happened to me after I thought Genesis died, don’t do that to Vincent, I don’t care how angry you are. Don’t make the same mistakes we did.”   


The former General turned his back to them, and the redhead could sense rather than see him trying to contain his rage. It was a testament to how much self-control he had gained in his time since leaving Soldier behind...to how much the world had forced him to become something he might otherwise have never considered. In a different moment, Genesis might have been  _ proud  _ of him, but he could only focus on the terrible reality of the clones created in his image; of what those clones had done to his lover before.   


“You are very lucky,  _ Vincent,  _ that I don’t have my sword.” Sephiroth spat.   


He couldn’t stop his back from bowing as his body tried to curl in on itself, as his fingers threaded in his hair only to start pulling on the strands, because his reality was quickly descending into a nightmare and that was the only way he could ground himself. “Tell me you got disposed of them.” Genesis whispered quietly. “ _ Please _ tell me you killed them  _ Angeal… _ ” And he couldn’t help how his voice sounded so pathetically pleading as he looked up at the dark-haired First only to see the anger and rage inside those sapphire irises drain, to see the muscular physicality of his former comrade deflate slightly as guilt riddled the visage that had been so vengeful only minutes ago.   


The General was the first to look away, and the former Commander wasn’t sitting anymore; he wasn’t standing either, more like lunging at his childhood friend only for a pair of strong arms to encircle his waist and stop him.  _ Sephiroth’s hands _ , the realization wasn’t enough to stop him from struggling, spitting an enraged “Let me go!” before landing a hateful glare at Angeal. “Answer me  _ goddamnit _ !”   


“Gen.” was a hushed whisper against the shell of his ear. The silky slide of silver strands along the side of his face as some of the locks spilt over his shoulder to brush against his neck, and the minute tightening of the hands anchoring him to his lover’s lithe body were enough to stop him from thrashing-but only temporarily-as he waited for their mutual former comrade to answer.

“Turks only found the remains of what appeared to be a dozen of mako tubes… we don’t have a clue about the soldiers he’d turned before fleeing the company.” The onyx-haired soldier spoke, still avoiding their gazes in favor of watching some spot on the ground. “Honestly, we don’t know where they are, but if our assumptions are true, they’re probably taken away by someone else, meaning Hollander wasn’t working alone.”

Genesis wanted to scream, to yell and shout obscenities at the man, but he didn’t know simply where to begin. Deciding that it simply wasn’t a good enough way to vent his rage, the redhead broke free from the hands that had gone somewhat lax around his midsection to barrel into Angeal. Maybe beating the crap out of each other would be nice to mend their broken friendship and for both of them to blow off some steam. Though in his current condition, it was unlikely that he would last long against the younger man, what with all the mako treatments his childhood friend was probably receiving. Genesis had been going on without mako for longer than a year, but the factor of degradation had to come in somewhere too.   


So maybe, in the end, this would be an even fight.

A part of him whispered that it was different fighting Angeal in a degradative state than in his normal state. His childhood friend’s mentality wasn’t going to be fixed just because he was determined to ‘knock some sense into him.’ No, the General’s perception of reality was skewed, and he couldn’t necessarily help it. Genesis could faintly recall how terrible he had felt when he was sick...how angry he was at everything and everyone around him. He was struck with the reality that this was what it was like to be on the outside looking in...this was what Angeal had seen...what  _ Sephiroth  _ had seen. If he hadn’t been so angry initially, he might have felt guilty about it...but he couldn’t-wouldn’t-concentrate on that. Comparisons didn’t matter. What mattered  _ now  _ was that he was going to have his say no matter what; and if he had to say it with his fists...then so be it. Angeal would have to see reason this way, because talking to him obviously wasn’t getting them anywhere. No, if he wouldn’t hear him, he would  _ feel  _ him.   


Sephiroth, of course, wasn’t going to allow that.   


Strong hands latched around his waist and drew him back against that familiar torso. And it wasn’t  _ fair,  _ wasn’t  _ fair  _ how everyone else seemed to get their fair share of lashing out and no matter which way he turned the silver-haired man always seemed ready to temper him. And he was sick to death of the younger man being level-headed in ways that were so different from the man he’d known before, sick of looking at him and realizing that Sephiroth had  _ grown up  _ and that that was just a little bit frightening because what if he got sick of him and left him behind?!

“Stop.” The warm, baritone voice in his ear muttered. “Genesis,  _ stop.”   
_

Genesis closed his eyes for a moment. Because this was exactly what he’d feared back in Funaraoi… But he couldn’t keep it inside him anymore. A part of him was trying desperately to hold the tsunami of emotions back, to stop the dam from breaking, but it was already too late. He cursed himself inwardly for not doing this back there, cursed himself for not being strong enough, not being good enough, and why did Sephiroth even love him?

“Liar.” The former Commander snarled, drawing out the word as he turned his head to look at the silver-haired man. “You lied to me.” And his lips were curling into the ugliest of sneers. Whipping his head to glare accusatorily at Vincent who was standing there with an expression the redheaded ex-First didn’t care enough to decipher, he repeated, more so to his lover than the gunslinger. “ _ You _ lied to me.”   


Sephiroth’s hold on him loosened somewhat but didn’t relent. Those green eyes searched his carefully, with that infuriating calm that made him want to gouge them out. And he could see the flickers of a kind of hysterical confusion beginning behind them, mitigated from where they were and why they were there. The former Commander knew that they didn’t need this, that they couldn’t do this, especially not with an audience. It occurred to him that they’d never really fought in front of anyone before, not to an extreme degree anyway. He knew-automatically-that his lover wouldn’t like it, that this sort of thing was very private to him...but it wasn’t like they had much of a choice. Angeal was wanting to throw them back on a chopper the minute he got the chance and Vincent was standing around like an oversized, distraught,  _ dishonest _ bat so  _ fuck  _ it. Maybe he should have addressed it sooner, and he was fairly sure he was going to regret this eventually...but right now, he was done. And that confusion on his companion’s visage only served to fuel his rage, to build upon it.   


“What did I lie to you about?”   


Calm. So  _ fucking  _ calm and collected. Like you couldn’t take the wind out of his peaceful sails or that impassive visage and Genesis wanted to  _ break  _ it. Wanted to see him break like he felt like he was breaking. Vincent stepped forward but the former General shot him a look so frigid he immediately retreated again. The scarlet-haired ex-First didn’t know what to do with the inactivity Sephiroth was forcing on him, didn’t know what to do with his hands, to plunge them into his own hair and tear them from their roots or to punch or maybe even headbutt his lover so he could break free.

And maybe this was ridiculous, maybe this was his insecurities pushing to the forefront, but he couldn’t just stop the insidious voice inside his head from whispering the ‘what-if’s, from conjuring images that some small part of him begged him, _ pleaded with him _ to let go, but the older ex-SOLDIER couldn’t… “Closest biological relative…” Genesis paused, ducked his head because he was just so tired of said closest biological relative observing him like he was some psycho that needed studying. “Bullshit. You care about him like your  _ father _ .” The way he uttered the word made it sound more like an insult than a title, and he knew that he didn’t need to continue this vein because it was probably obvious to his lover without him needing to spell it out.   


And maybe it was petty, and childish but maybe this was the finishing blow that made Sephiroth thoroughly and utterly fed up with him. If his words had been a knife with which he’d hurt his partner, the former Commander wanted to somehow give it a corporeal form, to feel the keen edge of the blade against his fingertips before plunging it inside his own chest. Because he couldn’t even bear the thought of…

_ “That’s  _ what this is about?!”   


Genesis startled, because he could have sworn he could have heard the faintest hints of amusement in that velvet tone. And no, that was not going to work. Because Sephiroth was not going to laugh at him while he was essentially trying to explain part of what was eating him alive from the inside out. Sephiroth huffed quietly, in an almost relieved way...as if he’d been expecting something  _ worse.  _ Slender fingers relinquished his right hand to run through his hair and he wanted to throw them off but he was-frankly-too indignant at the moment to do so. Still, there was a steadying sort of tangibility to the moment...even with the vein of quiet humor that was running through it. And it wasn’t a mocking sort of amusement, it was a tender, exasperated sort of amusement.   


“Genesis.” Sephiroth said quietly. “No one can replace you, do you understand? I’m not standing here defending-defending  _ him- _ over you. If I was so madly blinded by paternal love I wouldn’t be so angry right now.” There was the sound of someone shifting slightly and his partner stiffened. “You can just fall back.” The silver-haired snarled, though not to him. “Before you start talking, because if you start talking you can fetch two swords and we’ll duel right here. Mind your own business.”   


At this, Genesis almost broke form and laughed. Because the idea of the former General telling his  _ father  _ to ‘fall back’ and ‘mind his own business’ was frankly ridiculous. And it always seemed like it came down to these little ridiculous arguments between them; things that could have been resolved easily if one or both of them had bothered to step forward and tell the other what was on their mind. His partner was possibly the worst of them for it, because he could sit on an issue until he became rather shockingly cohesive to a thunderhead, but the redhead had to admit that he wasn’t much better. That didn’t shake the feeling of insecurity, however, and it didn’t shake the fact that he didn’t know what to do with it. While he was busy downspiraling into rumination, the green-eyed ex-SOLDIER’s focus had returned to him.

“You didn’t have parents,” Sephiroth said bluntly, and he stiffened. “But you  _ deserved  _ them. Far more than I did or ever will. And I’m sorry you didn’t, if I could do anything, I wish I could change that for you. I don’t think I can say that having parents-or  _ a parent- _ is all that people make it out to be.” The younger man shifted slightly. “Parents can be very disappointing.” He continued flatly, and there was a sharp intake of breath that they both ignored. “But you’ve never disappointed me, you’ve always been what you said you are. I’m never going to love you any less just because someone else is in my life. I’m always going to choose you over everyone else, I always have.”   


Genesis wanted to hate Sephiroth for being so mature about it again. Wanted to curse him and swear at him, but he couldn’t. And for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond to this… He didn’t know if he should be proud of the fact that they could get past their arguments so easily now, or resent it because it was so different from how they had been. The redhead wished that Vincent and Angeal would just disappear before he could embarrass himself even further, because he’d just shown weakness in front of people he didn’t trust as much as he did his partner. And anything he’d say would be more foibles revealed to people who shouldn’t be privy to this, private as it was for both of them...but he’d brought this upon himself, so he might as well take responsibility for it.   


From how he was letting his head hang, the former Commander wasn’t sure if his lover could see the ghost of a guilty and uneasy sort of smile tugging on his lips. And maybe it was for the best that he didn’t because it was fraught with sadness, with self-loathing. He was suddenly reminded of their time together inside their mental link, how they rose to defend each other when the other started wandering down the same road he was going. Holding onto the forearm curling around his abdomen, Genesis tried to maintain his cognizance like he’d done on their last day in their confinement, and tried to bridge their psychic connection. It was a risky move, considering that there were others with them, and he didn’t want to be the person who’d be behind the big reveal.   


Their proximity worked against his being out of practice, though he couldn’t really know if it was the same for his lover. Regardless, he would rather try this than to bare his soul in front of his former comrade and his boyfriend.

_ ‘Sephiroth…’ _

It seemed that despite the length of time between their last mental bridge and their current one, the silver-haired man knew immediately what he was asking for. His psychic presence was just as warm and just as brilliant as it has always been...as was the soft, admiring way he always seemed to observe him cognitively. They didn’t have a lot of time, he knew it, tried to keep that sense of urgency in the back of his mind. But it was hard with the way their subconscious personalities merged and interconnected. It was-he admitted-made even stronger by their close physical presence, because their mentalities didn’t really have to stretch to bridge the link...didn’t have to go anywhere to merge. The kaleidoscope of metaphysical rumination that threaded its way across his synapses was almost blinding in its intensity, and he wondered if his partner was feeling the same- _ seeing  _ the same thing-as he was. Breathtaking in its luminosity; and he could never look at the stars again without them seeming dim compared to this...miniscule in comparison to the millions of effervescent galaxies that swirled between them and coalesced into the definition of who they were.   


_ ‘Beautiful…’ _

Genesis knew without having to ask that Sephiroth was talking about him. And he was accosted with the image of understanding...of comfort and some sort of deep serenity that ached in that sweet, ardent way that nothing else could. Like liquid silver...translucent like diamonds...like icicles when they just started to melt...shot through with innumerable spectrums that reached across a thousand distances. Proffered, given...and with that kind of astounded wonderment that the former General always seemed to have when he realized that the redhead returned his feelings. And even though he was still uncertain, he could still feel that affection...still see it as it danced before him, like a willow-the-wisp across the glassy, waveless surface of a clear spring. Sephiroth spoke to him without words of his love...of his own fears about being in HQ, of wanting to reassure him. And of course the idiot had to be sorry too, had to weave that blue somber undertone of apology for not listening to him...for not picking up on how upset he was. A little bit like falling and flying...a little like igniting and being extinguished...like the rush of air and the thunder of whatever and everything under it.

_ ‘...It’s alright.’   
_

Their connection was like the finest of silks, and Genesis wanted to covetously take it and wrap it around their physical and psychical selves, to fold it around them over and over until he couldn’t distinguish himself from his lover or from what they had between them. It astounded him so much that the astonishment he was feeling picked up around them like a gentle whirlwind. Because the green-eyed individual currently in front of him in their shared space never ceased to make his breath catch in his throat by the surprises he kept bestowing the redhead with.   


_ ‘How can you love me so?’ _

The question that had been repeating again and again in his head rushed forth, fleeing through his grasp and flapping its white wings. And while he was at it, he decided that he could as well continue.

_ ‘You always say that I deserve better...but you keep putting yourself down, Seph.’   
_

His apology was like a breeze in the fall, bringing with it petrichor and drying leaves with brilliant hues of fire.

_ ‘Parents, or a parent is the least thing the world can offer you to make things right for how it’s always wronged you… You deserve all the happiness and all the good things this world has to offer…’   
_

Something trembled between them, as Genesis ducked his ‘head’, like the vibration traveling up the strings of a violin, a melancholy melody pulling on one’s heartstrings. He knew that this close, the emotions were so strong that no amount of reigning them in would probably stop them from seeping in. And the scarlet-haired individual didn’t really want to hold back from his lover, not anymore, even if it was not the brightest of feelings he was conjuring forth.

_ ‘You deserve better…’ _

And he let the mystifying feeling Sephiroth’s love for him always filled him with encompass them, the sensation of being wrought from stardust whenever the younger man touched him, and how it left him breathless and dizzy; how those brilliant beryl irises made him feel like drowning in an emerald ocean and how he could breathe despite being hundreds of feet underwater, how he lost himself within them only to be reborn from ethereal threads of the most luminescent of fires. And how he wanted for it, but found himself lacking, how he didn’t feel like he deserved it, the insecurity and self-hate cutting through the almost magical tapestry like some ugly festering wound.   


How Sephiroth didn’t deserve having to deal with this. How he shouldn’t be the molten silver filling through the cracks of the kintsugi of Genesis’ psyche, to add to his worth all the time.

_ ‘How can you say that?’ _

The younger man’s gentle rebuff wasn’t cold or bitter; instead, it was filled with gentleness...with something soothing and soft. And there was an echo of a memory there, of them standing in front of paper walls...listening to the soft sound of a waterfall as the then-General whispered  _ ‘you don’t see yourself clearly.’  _ And maybe he didn’t...because Sephiroth’s vision of him was a little bit overwhelming...certainly staggering. Sapphire and gold and something beautiful that had been molded so carefully from something terrible.   


_ ‘Genesis...you  _ ** _forgave _ ** _ me for something I can never repay. How you see me is how I see you... brilliant, always brilliant. And you can't place your worth on a scale, there's no measurement on Gaia that could amount to your value...so stop doubting yourself. You're enough. You'll always be enough.” _

Memories...so many memories. Genesis glaring at him from across the room at a board meeting. Genesis shouting insults at him, his eyes alight during a spar. Genesis laughing...his head thrown back and the breathless, disbelieving sort of incredulity that came with Sephiroth’s realization of how  _ beautiful  _ his laughter was. Genesis’ touch...like pinpoints of alabaster fire...like something wrought from flame and brought forth on his skin...mapping his epidermis. The fall of his hair, the feel of it in the silver-haired man’s fingers...his smell...the essence of his physicality. And the manner in which the sun hit his lashes in the morning shouldn’t be so sentimentally embedded in his lover’s psyche...nor should the curl of his lips...or the way Genesis said his name...but it was. And each one was tucked away like a precious gem...like priceless valuables they were scattered across his mental pathways...and it was enough to make him tremble.   


_ ‘I’m never going to cast you aside…’   
_

And Genesis wanted to take his partner’s pearlescent hand-both here and in reality-and bring it to his lips; to place reverent kisses on those knuckles, to draw him near, to pour into it the amount of love and other emotions this beautiful individual evoked within him. He would have done so were it not for the other individuals whose presence brushed faintly at the back of his mind, just on the edge of his consciousness and-...

-There was a rustle of clothes, and someone was clearing their throat, somewhere very far and very  _ near . _

The sense of urgency that had gotten pushed to the side rushed to the forefront of his mind, and overflowed in their connection. Accompanied with it was the sense of imminent danger, of leaving themselves wide open to any sort of attack; and it was Sephiroth who pulled away first. The sensation of loss and tearing of something that was so focused heightened, forcing him to follow suit just as quickly because the imagery surrounding him was fast becoming the barren room of their mental bridge.

Vaguely, he registered the hand holding him close to Sephiroth’s physicality tightening before his partner became cognizant of what he was doing and loosened it. Genesis tried to reign in his own body as he snapped out of it, jerking backwards slightly-though it was probably very obvious and jarring if one were to observe it from the outside-only to push into the former General’s chest. Panic rose up inside him as he raised his head to find Angeal standing closer to Vincent than he’d been at the beginning of their psychic rendezvous; a dark eyebrow quirked upwards, and muscular arms crossed over one another over a broad chest as their mutual former comrade looked at them with something like amusement in his eyes.

Reverting his focus-because this was weird enough-Genesis felt only slightly better when he observed that his silver-haired companion looked just about as discomfited as he did. And it was with a sort of embarrassed consternation that the redhead realized that in initiating the mental bridge they’d probably made the situation far more private than it would have been if they’d simply kept arguing. Sephiroth cleared his throat and opened his mouth, and the blue-eyed ex-SOLDIER was  _ sincerely  _ interested in what he was going to say to clear the air, but he instead paused just after opening his mouth and then  _ ‘hmph’ed _ again and two pale pinks spots appeared high on his cheeks. And the older man sincerely wanted to laugh because he had  _ never  _ seen the green-eyed former General blush outside of the bedroom. He was accosted with the wild urge to pinch the places where that color had appeared, just for the hell of it. It was-as it turned out-Vincent who spoke first.

“That was...different.”   


Looking away from the roseate shade that dusted those high cheekbones, Genesis had to face the very awkward atmosphere he had inadvertently created. And yet, despite the wholly weird sensation that seemed to suffuse the very air around them, he could see the shy glimmer of something underneath it all; in the faint amusement reflected inside the pair of eyes that were observing them, in the way Sephiroth was blushing behind him, and the smile that was too bashful to tug on a corner of his own lips. For a moment, he didn’t want to acknowledge it, because the last time he’d hoped for something, the last time he’d tried to push-himself, those around him forward, the world had brought failure, anguish, bitterness, sorrow and death upon everyone he held dear. But him refusing to realize it didn’t make it go away, and the former Commander knew for a fact that once the tiniest seed of an idea had fallen through the cracks in his psyche, lodged itself inside the nooks and crannies of his brain, he wouldn’t be able to stop it from growing until it turned into a towering sturdy Adansonia digitata.   


He was accosted with the urge to make the dark-haired First see what he’d seen, but wasn’t sure if he could...his attempts so far had borne him no fruit at all. But he refused to give up.

“You could’ve as well asked us to leave. I guess I should send you back to your island after all, a room’s apparently not big enough.” was his childhood friend’s somewhat jovial remark. It was then that, for the first time, the redhead truly acknowledged the weary undertone running alongside every word, the fatigue that seemed to weigh down on the otherwise totally healthy looking figure. And maybe Angeal looked a bit paler since the last time he’d seen him, maybe there were dark bags under his eyes... and he looked  _ old _ .   


_ “But I’m worried...and you must forgive an old man for worrying.” _

_ “You’re not that old.” _

_ “Well, thank you. But I’m old enough to be granted discharge if I asked for it. And while I’ve not considered it yet, I know it’ll be much longer before Genesis does. So I worry for him, and I worry for you.” _

The memory of his smoking himself to death while his partner and his childhood friend talked inside the balcony of his apartment from all those eons ago resurfaced in his brain, and moisture flooded his vision. Gritting his teeth, Genesis held it at bay, locked eyes with Angeal and opened his mouth to speak. “See?” A brief pause. “Look around you ‘Geal, we’re all finally together… after so long, and none of us is angry, none of us is trying to gut the others. I know it’s so different from the old times…” He swallowed thickly, before continuing. “And it’s not really being together with us being confined to a cell, but if that’s what we have to work with as long as we’re on Shinra’s turf until you’re healed to go back with us-Vincent included-to Funaraoi, it’s what I’m willing to do. Because if you two want to repeat the mistakes Sephiroth and I did, we’re both hellbent on not letting you to.” A heavy sigh. “You know how much this is taxing all of us, so stop making it more difficult than it has to be. And if you don’t listen to me or Sephiroth, at least listen to what  _ he _ has to say. Don’t you  _ love  _ him?”

He knew-instinctively-that it was an extraneous question. Angeal loved Vincent, there was no denying that. But Genesis also knew that sometimes it took the reminder of such love to bring forth the reasoning behind specific actions….especially when things were done without one or the other’s consent. Blue eyes much like his own flicked to the gunslinger standing before them, a softness there that hadn’t been present when they’d first arrived. And the redhead knew they would need to rebuild. He was angry at Sephiroth’s father for not telling them about the clones; really, he hadn’t fully had time to process it, but that would come later. The former Commander also knew that Vincent would have enough of a reckoning from Sephiroth without him putting his two cents in at the end of the day. The amount of hostility rolling off the younger man was enough to almost make him feel sorry for the ebon-haired former agent...but not quite. No, he would only be satisfied when the rogue clones were dealt with, when they were disposed of and put into the ground where they couldn’t harm anyone. He wouldn’t rest easy until that desperate hope became a verity...because the world had enough to deal with with just one of him. Genesis would be damned to a cactuar if there were platoons of himself running amok; the idea in of itself was absolutely horrifying.   


“...You know I do.”   


Drawing himself from his thoughts, the redhead was satisfied to see that Angeal was looking at Vincent as he spoke. At his declaration, the gunslinger seemed to slump slightly, as if a weight had been taken off his shoulders and he was only now allowing himself to relax. And Genesis was accosted with the urge to whack him over the head with something because it was so cohesive with what Sephiroth looked like whenever he forgave him he just couldn’t stand the synchronicity of their equanimous idiocy. Because apparently both father and son were lacking in the area of self-esteem.   


“Thank you.” Vincent said quietly.

Sephiroth shifted slightly and the scarlet-haired ex-First watched as his partner looked away, his visage blank but his eyes a coagulation of conflicted emotions. And he understood...a little bit. Valentine was his father, but he’d known Angeal first...devoted himself to Angeal before he took the time to devote himself to the son he’d abandoned so many years ago. Genesis couldn’t imagine what that felt like...to acknowledge that your former comrade had been enough to rouse your sire to action when you hadn’t been enough...to somehow see yourself as less valuable to the person who’d created you. And the older man felt a little bit ridiculous for even thinking that Sephiroth might cast him aside...because really, they were both somewhat in the same position in terms of Vincent, just from different viewpoints. It also made him feel somewhat guilty to acknowledge that, and even more mad at the crimson-eyed gunman. Really, it made him want to do something irreversible to the dark-haired gunslinger who probably wasn’t even cognizant of what he’d ultimately done, if the former Commander hadn’t been aware of the deep-seated guilt that the eldest of them felt. But guilt could only get you so far, and sure, his lover’s sire was trying, but it wasn’t hard enough. It seemed his partner was trying to be more of a son that Valentine was trying to be the father he had never been. Sure, they were busy with reshaping their Utopia, but occupation was only so much of an excuse when you’d spent twenty-three years inside a coffin instead of at least  _ trying  _ to fight for your son; and they were excuses, both of them, and really ridiculous ones at that.

Glaring daggers at the ex-Turk for an infinitesimal moment, Genesis tightened his hold around Sephiroth’s forearm, drawing what he hoped to be soothing circles against the fabric before looking at his former comrade and raising an eyebrow. “Well?”

Angeal exhaled rather loudly before letting his head hang for a moment, probably trying to gather his thoughts before speaking up. “I see there’s no way to dissuade you, though knowing you, I should’ve known better.” There was a pause before his childhood friend’s eyes met his, taking a quick glance at the silver-haired man behind him as he continued. “Alright. I’ll try to make arrangements, as much as it is within my power to make your stay more comfortable.” Genesis opened his mouth to say that it wouldn’t be necessary at all, considering that they had survived through worse for an entire year, but the General shook his head. “Vincent and I will check up on you, and I don’t know what you’ve been planning together, but still… we really don’t have to do this.” Again, the redhead wanted to object, but their mutual former comrade held a hand out to stop him. “I know… I know… At least try to get some rest, and let us know whenever you’re ready, okay? And I’m not just talking about Genesis. You too, Sephiroth.”

Looking at his partner, the same blank look greeted him. Those brilliant beryl eyes that were still troubled were guarded somewhat as the younger man faced Angeal, nodding curtly before glancing at Vincent-who was still standing there like the same oversized, distraught and  _ dishonest _ bat-the steely flicker within emerald irises the only indication of his lover’s anger. Turning his head to look at the dark-haired First, Genesis nodded, muttering “Will do.” somewhat quietly.   


The blue-eyed General looked toward his crimson-caped partner, trying to hold his gaze as he nodded toward the door. The older man hesitated again, carmine irises flitting between them once more before a resigned look spread over his visage. Angeal's expression was sympathetic as he held the door open for his lover...so was the hand he put at the small of Vincent's back in a kind of quiet reassurance. Genesis wanted to say something...but he didn’t know if anything he said would be kind or comforting...and he certainly wasn’t feeling like catering towards the gunslinger’s emotions at the moment. Watching as the door shut behind them, he couldn’t help but feel that small iota of panic as the latch slid shut with an audible, metallic grind. Somehow, the room seemed smaller than when they had all been in there together, but at least this time he wasn’t alone. It would be hard to be comfortable there...hidden away like refugees when really, the world just didn’t know they were alive...wouldn’t  _ want  _ to know that the former General was alive. With a shiver, he wondered what would happen if the populace found out that Sephiroth had been released...how far Shinra would have to go to cover up their tracks. The aforementioned man shifted and moved away somewhat, rubbing long fingers over his arms in an involuntary gesture. Green eyes narrowed as the silver-haired ex-SOLDIER attempted to ground himself...closed his eyes and shook his head.   


“I know…” he began tightly before pausing. Genesis watched as his lover gritted his teeth before continuing. “I know logically that he- _ Vincent- _ was likely focused on Angeal, that the thought of the clones didn’t occur to him. But that doesn’t change the fact that he  _ forgot  _ it...that he forgot what Shinra did with the clones last time-” Sephiroth broke off, his voice somewhat choked. When he continued, it was in a hoarse tone. “...I woke up watching you-a  _ copy  _ of you-bleeding out next to me. After I told it  _ ‘I hope you rot.’  _ And to just  _ forget  _ that-!” There was a hiss of breath. “...Lifeless...broken...it was a nightmare-” Platinum locks shivered as the green-eyed former General shook his head yet again. “I’d never screamed before, not before then...not in terror. In pain, maybe...but not like that. And he was there, he was outside the door when Angeal came in. I don’t know how anyone could forget their child making a sound like that…”   


Genesis couldn’t stop the anguish that stabbed in his heart from showing on his face, couldn’t stop the sorrowful downturn of his lips. Bowing his head, he couldn’t stop the burning sensation in his eyes; but he gritted his teeth, fought it back as his memories of the time he’d just found out about Project G resurfaced in his head. How afraid he’d been of what had ultimately happened to his silver-haired lover… The comparison Sephiroth was drawing made him think about how he’d have felt if the younger man had uttered the same phrase right in his face… Looking at his obviously upset partner from underneath auburn lashes, he tried imagining how it must have felt to see those perfect lips curl around such cruel words, and it wasn’t really hard…because he’d seen it firsthand before. Averting his gaze almost abruptly, the redhead pressed his lips together, and closed his eyes shut, suppressing the pained noise that wanted to bubble up in his throat…   


Because why did everything have to be  _ so painful? _

Clenching his jaws, he forced himself to open his eyes; forced himself to look at his lover before stepping toward him, not bothering to hide his pain as he raised his hand, placed it gently, tentatively against the side of Sephiroth’s visage that was facing away from him, seeking those green irises that were probably riddled with more anguish than his were. Slowly, but surely the younger man turned his head, but those eyes he loved so much were downcast, not meeting him. What could he say to the former General to assuage his pain? As much as he wanted to take that nightmare away and throw it out, fill its empty place instead with merriment and brilliant joy…he couldn’t give something that he didn’t have. And to know that Vincent had been there, for the ex-Turk to have witnessed it and then forgotten about it like it had never happened…

Curling an arm around a broad back, he slowly drew his companion close, or rather stepped into his personal space to press their cheeks together gently, to whisper quietly against the pale shell of an ear. “ _ I’m sorry Seph _ … and I know saying that I’m sorry is the worst thing to say… But I wish I had been strong enough… If I hadn’t been foolish enough to go back to Wutai, you wouldn’t have been forced to deal with that…” Pressing his lips to the crook where his lover’s pale throat met shoulder, he continued. “I know it doesn’t change the past, and it doesn’t change the fact that Vincent  _ forgot _ … but… ” He trailed off because he was awful at this, and because nothing could make it better. Pulling back slightly, he gazed into viridian pools. “For what it’s worth, I want you to know that when I thought that psycho was your father, I wanted to kill him. Knowing this, I want to run Vincent through as well.” He offered a lopsided smile that was probably making everything even worse. Maybe he should just shut up.

Sephiroth offered him an unstable smile in return, cupped his cheek and let his thumb trace his jaw in a gentle upward motion.   


“You don't have anything to be sorry for.” He said quietly. When Genesis looked doubtful he tapped his cheek lightly with his ring finger.  _ “Nothing.”  _ He repeated forcefully. “You did what any normal person would have done…after what happened. The fact you did it only shows me how strong you were...how you still wanted to persevere. That's not weakness, Gen.” Green eyes shifted downward somewhat, made a study of the redhead's shirt. “I think...you were right about how I look at him...but I didn't know it, and when you told me...it frightened me. Because I've never-I’ve never formed an emotional attachment without being aware of it beforehand, without conscious psychic consent. It felt... irrational...invasive, like I was  _ forced  _ into it. And maybe that's just how it is with biological parents...that link. But I hate not having control, you know that. Even now, I still care about him, and I don't really like it.” A shrug. “Maybe it's cowardice, but I'm still angry. It makes me angrier that I feel obligated to care when he obviously either ignored or didn't have that initial urge to care about me.”   


Green eyes flicked to Genesis, and the openness in them retreated somewhat as regret filled them.

“And I know this is hard for you too. I'm not disregarding that. I wish there was a way I could make this easier for you. But for now maybe we should just focus on Angeal...the rest can come later.” Soft lips brushed against the older man's cheek, and he exhaled involuntary. “I'd rather be anywhere but here, but at least I'm here with you.”

Genesis mirrored the gesture before leaning their foreheads together and closing his eyes. It was hard not to give himself over to the ‘what-if’s and the possible course of events if they had done things differently; but the fact that it was a futile effort, and an impractical one, was what he kept telling himself.

He also couldn’t help but realize that if he had kept his mouth shut, maybe the younger ex-SOLDIER wouldn’t be as upset as he was now. But what was said couldn’t be taken back, and the redhead knew that despite all his expertise with magic, there wasn’t a single spell that could turn back time. So, he offered what he could, and hoped that maybe it would make his lover feel slightly better. “I don’t know about parents, biological or otherwise, but… what I said…” Ducking his head and pressing their temples together as his eyes bored into a point on the fabric covering his companion’s shoulder, he continued. “I was afraid of how quickly you were coming to care about him… I was scared even, jealous, because it seemed to come so easily, and it terrified me, because I didn’t see him trying hard enough for it. I compared myself to him, and it was… wrong.” He paused, albeit briefly. “That was unfair to you and that’s why I’m sorry… I also chose the worst time to explode, and I know if I apologize once more it’d seem like I’m not trying at all.” Suddenly remembering one more thing he wanted to address, he followed. “And it’s not cowardice, you don’t have to explain it to me because I know very well what it feels like to care, to even love  _ someone _ and have it sneak up on you.” Quickly he added. “I love you, Sephiroth. I’m grateful-...it’s probably selfish but I’m grateful to have you here with me.” Brushing a kiss over a broad well-built shoulder, the former Commander closed his eyes and breathed in the scent that was Sephiroth’s, and his Sephiroth’s alone. He could feel rather than see the younger man’s answering smile. As the gesture he’d just bestowed upon his partner was returned, the curve of those warm lips was a balm upon his weary his soul.

“Stop apologizing for having feelings you can’t always control.” Sephiroth murmured against his skin. “If anything, I’m flattered...that you’d care so much. The way I feel about you and the way I feel about him are entirely different things. And if love makes you selfish, then I am equally selfish. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here...with you.” 


	5. Chapter Four

Vincent Valentine was not a dishonest man.

Staring at the opposite wall in his efficiency, the aforementioned individual tried to tell himself that he’d done the right thing. He knew that in some ways he had, but he could have gone about it differently. If he’d simply  _ told  _ Angeal where he was going, made it clear that he was going to disobey what he’d been asked to do...he might have felt better. Instead, he’d felt it necessary to sneak around like a child afraid of a parent. The very concept of it was ridiculous in his mind...but it was still what he had done. And he could chalk it up as desperation, but he knew it was more than that; it was selfishness. Because he didn’t want to be alone if the worst should happen...if he should suddenly wake up and find himself in an empty bed. It was hard to look at it objectively, hard to acquiesce to his mental weakness because that was the only way he could define it. And he didn’t like labeling himself with something that was so unutterably selfish...because he had tried so  _ hard  _ in his life-what little of it he’d participated in anyway-not to be selfish. The consequences of selfishness were heinous, but he’d still overlooked that in favor of assuaging his own worries, of reassuring himself that he’d done everything he could do to try and rectify this.   


Vincent Valentine was a coward.

The thought made him flinch, even in its verity. But he was. He’d run away from his son when things got too difficult...too painful for him to face. He’d left an infant crying in a dark lab because he couldn’t bear the thought of a world without his mother, but that ultimately made him no better than she was. And he didn’t hate Lucrecia...because both of them were equally guilty, but he disliked her a little bit for failing to be honest with him...for failing to be unafraid when it mattered most. And now he was turning to the two people who-if anyone-deserved peace. People who had suffered because he’d turned a blind eye. Genesis and Sephiroth didn’t deserve to be back at HQ, sequestered in a dark cell like they were dirty secrets. Clenching his teeth, the crimson-eyed ex-Turk crossed his arms and hunched over to stare at his boots.  _ Dirty secrets... _ and that’s exactly what they were, to the public anyway. What they had always been, and the idea of it was so terrible, so painful. That the men currently floors below him, staring at the cold walls around them had always been the harbingers of terrible concealment. Children with more on their shoulders than any youth should ever possess...and here they were again.   


He’d seen the pure, unadulterated look of almost incoherent panic in Genesis’ eyes when they stepped off the chopper. Seen the way he seemed to shrink into himself...and there was something so wrong about that...about bringing someone back to the horrors that they’d tried so hard to get away from. Sephiroth was no better. If he had to look at it honestly, he could safely say that Sephiroth was faring far worse. Because this was where everything had begun...and where everything had crumbled around his ears. And the way those emerald irises became clouded and dark was like watching the ghost of a thousand memories dancing behind glassy sclera. For a moment, he was accosted with the vision of a little white-haired boy standing in an echoing, empty sterilized hallway...waiting...waiting...though for what neither of them knew. Recompense...relief...for someone to tell him that everything was going to be alright...that he was going to survive this. And he supposed he should count it a miracle that Genesis had reached Sephiroth when he did, that they’d been able to find each other despite everything, because he wasn’t entirely sure what either of them would have become if they’d never met each other.   


Vincent had forgotten entirely about the clones.

The minute Angeal had brought it up, had thrown that angle before them he’d wanted to scream. Because he should have told them. And the look of betrayal of Sephiroth’s face was almost enough to make him fall to his knees and start begging because he hadn’t  _ meant  _ to forget about it, he’d been so wrapped up in his worry, so focused on getting to the two of them and then getting through the whirlwind of their spontaneous decision to bring them back that it had escaped his focus entirely. And Vincent knew he would have to answer for it, that he would have to bring his reasoning to the table in a way that was coherent and sincere but he didn’t know how to do that...because now he had lost not only Angeal’s trust, but his son’s trust and his partner’s trust. Frowning, the gunslinger ran a hand through his hair and worried his lip. He hadn’t known why Genesis’ disappointment was so painful...at least not at first. There was no denying that he was grudgingly appreciative of the redheaded former Commander...but he’d had no idea that his respect for him ran so deeply, especially not after he’d essentially forced a kiss upon him.

But it was still painful.

And the stark truth was that he cared about Genesis on an equal scale that he did Sephiroth. Because-inadvertently-he could see how hard they both worked to maintain what they had...no matter the cost. It was hard not to love someone who loved his son so selflessly, so determinedly. Who never backed down despite all the irascible, sullen comments the silver-haired man threw his way. Someone who was willing to look past the former General’s differences...his strangeness and embrace him for who he was despite his flaws. And he knew it wasn’t that simple; that their relationship was one forged in fire and blood and at a terrible cost...but it was in the verity of that cost that he was amazed by their ability to persevere. And to disappoint them both was to be a sincere and utter disappointment to himself. To watch the former Commander implode with a kind of horror-struck despair was a visualized agony, seeing and hearing the vitriol in Sephiroth’s voice and posture was torturous and he didn’t know what to  _ do  _ to make it right. Vincent and Angeal didn’t fight like Genesis and Sephiroth, but he often wondered if such a lack of dissent kept them from truly getting to know each other. You could have a good relationship, but you also needed difficult times in order to understand the concept of devotion and determination. Sanguine lips curled in a bitter, wry sort of smile.

Well...now things were ‘ _ difficult.’ _

It was entirely his fault; he wasn’t avoiding the reality of it. He had-inadvertently-created this mess, and it didn’t matter how good his intentions were...it was still a mess. Vincent wasn’t accustomed to being impulsive or careless, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that he should have thought this through much more thoroughly. At the very least, he at least might still have his son’s respect. The older man considered it solely a miracle that he’d managed to thoroughly damage three of his closest relationships in the space of a few days. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was a talent or if he just had chronic bad luck. Glaring at the plant on his kitchen counter, the ebon-haired gunslinger acknowledged that he was feeling sorry for himself. Standing here, in his dingy efficiency was not fixing anything. But he didn’t know how to go about  _ fixing  _ things like this. Lucrecia had died before he could rectify his issues with her, and Sephiroth had miraculously just decided that maybe he’d give him a chance despite the fact that he’d abandoned him as an infant. He realized-with a surge of self-hatred-that Sephiroth could have chosen to be absolutely horrid to him and it would have been perfectly justified. In some ways, it became clearer why Genesis was so much more reticent with him than his son was...because Genesis wasn’t blindly trying to forge something from nothing...so of course he’d be wary of him.

And Vincent had proven Genesis right.

The mere idea of it was nearly enough to make him hysterical. Because he didn’t know  _ how  _ to be a father. He knew-realistically-that most parents didn’t know how to be parents until they were-abruptly-parents. But he’d only had the opportunity to actually be a parent in these past few months, and somehow he had failed spectacularly at that. And he’d known instinctively that Sephiroth wouldn’t want the stereotypical parent that so many people seemed to hold a vision of in their minds. Sephiroth didn’t want hugs or reassurances or soft words...but he could have at least tried harder to reach him. And maybe it had a little bit to do with when the silver-haired man had called him  _ ‘father’  _ while he was still imprisoned. How it had been a blatant attempt to win him over no matter what the cost. And Vincent understood desperation, but it was still painful. He’d never asked for that title, and to have that title bestowed upon him for the sake of manipulation was heinous. At the same time, it wasn’t an excuse for his carelessness...for his lack of regard in terms of the clones. He was never going to forget the scene he’d walked into the day they’d met...that horror-ridden, green-eyed stare that was so filled with madness it had broken his heart ten times over. There was no excuse for him forgetting that.

Someone was knocking at his door.

Lifting his head, Vincent stared at the entryway before acknowledging it was probably Angeal. He’d want to talk about things, and he was within perfect rights to do so. It didn’t change the fact that Vincent was reluctant to do it, that he instinctively leaned towards concealment when he botched things up so badly that he didn’t know how he was going to fix them. Bitterly, he acknowledged that Angeal deserved someone better, someone who wasn’t going to do things in such a hysterical and impulsive manner. He didn’t regret telling Genesis and Sephiroth, but he did regret being dishonest about it. Pushing away from the counter, the crimson-eyed ex-Turk took a moment to gather himself...because he knew that this wasn’t going to be a happy conversation, not initially anyway. Angeal would want him to hear him out, and he was going to...but that didn’t make facing it easier. But he had to stop hiding like a frightened child when it came to this sort of thing...it didn’t fix matters any faster. Rubbing his prosthetic arm reflexively, Vincent resigned himself to the inevitable and crossed the room in four long strides to open the door.   


The younger man was looking down at his boots, and only when the dark-haired ex-Turk opened the door did he look up; the slight shadow of surprise on his face a possible indication that he hadn’t expected him to answer the door. It made something painful stab in his chest, that his lover had interpreted his concealment, his staying away as something that was far more serious and permanent, and Vincent didn’t even want to think about what it was but that didn’t make it less true, that didn’t make this any less painful. It didn’t take away from the amount of guilt he felt at the moment.

Just as quickly, that surprised look morphed into something soft within those blue eyes; the same eyes that were haloed by dark circles that didn’t seem to want to leave the younger man’s visage. Angeal seemed perpetually tired, but it was more pronounced now; and the ebon-haired gunman didn’t want to think that it was probably because the General might have stayed up worrying for him, retracing the route his helicopter had taken only to find out that instead of checking up on some mako reactor he’d gone to Funaraoi.   


It was Vincent’s turn to look down, noticing that his partner seemed thinner too, which was at the same time surprising and not so much, considering that he’d only been away for a week. But he didn’t know if it was degradation eating away at the otherwise muscular physicality of his lover or the dark-haired First had simply forgone eating during his absence.

“Hey.” His companion was the first one to break the silence that had settled between them, his voice affectionate and soft, somewhat hopeful but for what the gunslinger didn’t know. “Can I come in?”

Clearing his throat and wishing he could clear his mind just half as successfully, the older man stepped back and indicated for his partner to enter. Angeal did so slowly, as if giving him the chance to change his mind...and he wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him a little bit...demand that he get angry with him,  _ shout  _ at him...something other than the infinite well of kindness he seemed to be constantly offering him. Shutting the door behind the General, the crimson-eyed man hesitated before striding back over to the counter and watching as his lover did the same on the opposite side. Blue eyes made a study of his face for a minute before dropping to the granite between them...large hands spreading across the surface as if seeking answers in the numerous flecks of black, grey, and white. Swallowing, Vincent tried to think of something remotely understandable to say...something meaningful...but his mind protested against the concept; because wanting to find a common ground was simply a selfish desire to get back to where they used to be. They needed to rebuild without him seeking comfort that he knew would be given in an instant.   


“I’m sorry.” The ebon-haired man said flatly, and then winced at his own tone. When Angeal opened his mouth to speak, he raised a hand. “I’m not sorry for telling Sephiroth and Genesis, they deserved to know. But I am sorry for lying to you about where I was going. I should have just told you and done it regardless. It was childish of me to hide it from you...to try to deceive you so flagrantly. I shouldn’t have worried you, it was the worst thing I could have possibly done, and you didn’t deserve it.”   


It was-admittedly-a condensed version of what he was feeling. And he’d meant to say more than that; meant to express himself better. But he’d long ago resigned himself to the fact that he never said what he wanted to when it mattered most. Closing his eyes, the ex-Turk shook his head.

“I...know I have a lot to make up for. But you deserve to have your friends around you during times like this, to help you.”   


“Vincent.” His lover’s voice was somewhat sad and pained-weary even-and it made him look up to find blue irises gazing at his visage with an understanding he didn’t think he deserved. It shouldn’t be so easy...and even though a part of him, even though  _ Chaos _ wanted to be forgiven just as easily as Angeal was offering, he felt like he should be trying harder. Just like he had to try harder with Sephiroth. The younger man continued however, oblivious to his dark ruminations. “I wished I could say I was glad that you figured out that it was a mistake, but when it could’ve been prevented in the first place…” The General trailed off and looked away, a sigh passing his lips. “I don’t know why you felt you needed to lie to me about it, I’ve been trying to understand that since I found out. I won’t push if you don’t want to tell me, and the fact that you know it was wrong is almost enough for me, but…”

_ Almost. _

Something shivered inside him, something cold and fearful. Because what if he’d lost Angeal’s trust for good, and there was simply no way he could gain it back? What if the dark-haired First wasn’t just here to talk to him about what had happened but also to make a decision about their relationship? Vincent didn’t want to think about what that decision might be, but even the thought of ending up in an empty bed regardless of what he’d been trying to do was just unacceptable. At least that’s what  _ Chaos _ thought. And maybe it was a bit of a stretch to have their year-long relationship be over just after one small lie, but it didn’t change the verity of it. While he was spiralling into his thoughts, a warm hand closed around his wrist, effectively breaking the dark spell that had fallen over him. When his eyes met the concerned sapphire irises that were gazing at him, his partner continued his unfinished sentence.   


“But I can’t stop wondering why, and I can’t help but think that it might change our relationship in a way that’s not necessarily pleasant. I’m not saying this to force you to explain yourself. I’m just letting you know.”

Overthinking his answer wasn’t going to do either of them any good. Not just because he knew he was overthinking it, but because if he  _ did  _ overthink it his reply might be less than sincere. And Vincent didn’t want to be the one to disappoint his partner with something flowery...something less than veritable simply because he was afraid to lose something. Looking at the fingers encircling his wrist, he couldn’t help but feel guilty that he desperately wanted to delay his answer just to keep them there...that when he did answer they might retreat...possibly forever. Swallowing, Vincent shoved his cowardice to the side and opened his mouth.

“I lied to you because I thought you’d talk me out of it.” He said hoarsely. When Angeal looked surprised, he turned his head away. “You...have a way of making everything seem perfectly logical, even if it’s not. And I didn’t want to give you the opportunity of _ losing _ the opportunity to have two people who care about you close to you just because I don’t know how to out-strategize you.”   


This seemed to make his partner even more surprised, and also make those blue eyes streaked with pain. His companion did draw his hand back then, and Vincent wanted to chase those digits, desperately so, but he didn’t and curled his own fingers against the countertop instead.

“Out-strategize me?” His lover echoed, stepping backwards whereas he’d been leaning over the counter before. “When has this become some game of strategy that I didn’t know about?” Angeal turned away, and the crimson-eyed gunslinger could only see the profile of his companion as the younger man averted his gaze to the floor. “The only reason I didn’t want them here, that I  _ don’t _ want them here is because you were enough for me-are enough for me. I don’t want them to have to go through more pain, and I can only imagine how being here hurts them both…” Those fingers that had held onto his wrist raked through onyx strands, and for a brief moment Vincent could have sworn he’d seen a strand of white among them. “Not to mention the fact that if the populace finds out that they’re here, they’re going to riot for sure. And don’t tell me you didn’t think about this as well, because half-baked ideas aren’t what you do Vincent.” Walking away from him to stand just behind his couch, the General cupped his face in his hands, his quiet voice muffled somewhat by the gesture. “What are we going to tell the people?”

Tilting his head and narrowing his ruby eyes, the ebon-haired gunslinger blinked a couple of times as thin tendrils of seemingly now-visible air started weaving together. Too many of them, emerging from Angeal’s back to become translucent from the invisibility of the ether, almost shimmering in their ethereality as they formed whatever tapestry they were fast becoming the threads of. Ivory, bright like cumulus clouds, glistening as though covered with the dew that dots the grass in the break of dawn, and Vincent couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped his lips. The blue-eyed individual however, seemed to be totally unaware, if it weren’t for the breathe that the older man had exhaled.

And it almost seemed unfair...that his lover was going to get a wing when it seemed like there was a great possibility he might never be able to use it. Gazing at the shimmering, lofty shape of the pinioned appendage, Vincent couldn’t help the bitterness that welled up in his throat. Because as beautiful as it was...it also signaled the beginning of the end. Mutations were an indicator of how far-reaching the degradation had become...of how virulent it was. Sephiroth had told him, briefly and haltingly, of when Genesis’ wing had appeared. He was unutterably grateful that at least this time there wasn’t a pool of black blood, at least this time the individual in question wasn’t in terrible pain. And it was beautiful because Angeal didn’t deserve pain. A whimsical part of him was tempted to think of it as a mercy...but he knew better. It was strange to look at something so magnificent...to look at it and feel both parts wonder and despair. And as he rose to go towards the younger man, he couldn’t help but feel like a man walking into something he didn’t deserve...something he didn’t know how to measure up to. Kneeling before his partner, Vincent tilted his face upwards...waited until Angeal lowered his hands to look at him.   


“I didn’t mean it in the sense of competition.” He murmured. “I meant it in the sense that I’m always helpless to do what you say, because I love you. And sometimes that love makes me silly and blind.” The smile that quirked his lips was melancholy. “Ironic, isn’t it? That in trying to keep myself from doing something, I managed to do the exact thing I was trying to avoid.” Levering himself upward somewhat, Vincent let his fingers trace the lower speculum of feathered plumage, watching as it shifted slightly under his touch. “It fits you.” He added. When Angeal stiffened, he let the hand settle on his partner’s waist. “In the sense that it’s glorious and pure.” He amended. “I know it’s a risk, bringing them here. But I know that Genesis at least wants to be here...no matter how angry he pretends to be. And Sephiroth is going to follow wherever Genesis is...I don’t think he has much control over it to be honest.” He sighed. “Nevertheless, you’re right. It’s a risk, but if the price is getting your life back...I think both of them would say it’s worth it, that  _ you’re  _ worth it.”   


His partner shook his head of onyx tresses. “It seems it’s one of those moments then. Because neither is this pure or glorious, nor you seem to be aware of what you’re saying about Genesis and Sephiroth.” Those blue eyes fixed him with a stern look. “What if people ask for Sephiroth’s execution, what then? Am I worthy  _ enough _ to bring your son back here only to see him at the gallows? What are we going to do this time to stop Administration if that was the only way to stop people from revolution? Clearly none of you were thinking straight.” Shaking his head yet again, he continued.“ I don’t want my life to be saved if it’s wrought in bloodshed or the lives of my friends.” The younger man took the gunslinger’s hands in his palms, his blue eyes meeting his with the same soft, affectionate look that was swirling within them when Vincent had opened the door. “I love you Vincent, I will always love you. ” His partner’s right hand rose to cradle the side of his face, and it was too hard not to give into it, not to lean into the warm touch. “I’m sorry about what I facilitated to happen inside the cell, and I’m sorry if I was the one to ruin your relationship with your son, but I also know there’s no turning back now. I just want you to know that I don’t want to bring you more pain than I already have. Than I  _ will  _ in the following months.”

“Genesis still has his wing...even with his degradation cured.” Vincent pointed out. “And Sephiroth has a wing even though he never experienced it. That tells me that it’s not part of the degradation...merely a latent ability that loses its dormancy when the degradation becomes more...apparent. Or-in Sephiroth’s case-in a time of extreme mental distress. It’s a part of you, and it’s not a negative part. Do you know how many people would love to be able to fly?”   


“I can only fly when Chaos takes over, but it’s still...exhilarating...still amazing. I’ve told Genesis, and now I’ll tell you, having something attached to your life doesn’t change who you are on the inside.” He looked downwards. “I...feel like sometimes we’re fighting a losing battle...with Administration...with the people.” Vincent shuddered. “How am I going to do this if-?!” He gritted his teeth and looked away. “I don’t think” He said slowly. “You realize how pivotal you are to the success of what Shinra is trying to be. And yes, bringing Sephiroth and Genesis back here is a risk, but what happens if-if you  _ die- _ Angeal?! You’re the only reason they didn’t face execution in the first place! What if Administration decides that they can do whatever they want once you’re out of the picture? What if they kill them anyway? I can’t let that happen, not just for myself...though that’s part of it...I won’t deny my own selfishness. But the people  _ need  _ you Angeal. Sephiroth and Genesis still need you.  _ This world needs you.  _ So desperately.”   


He shifted and closed his eyes.

“And I know that you don’t need to hear that what with...with everything. But it  _ hurts  _ me when you don’t see your own value. When you don’t look at everything you’ve built and realize that you’re the keystone to this. And maybe that’s why I went to them...because if I can’t make you see what you’re worth...maybe they can.” He took a deep, gulping breath and then plowed onward. “And I’m  _ afraid  _ Angeal, I’m afraid to lose you because I don’t know-I don’t-I don’t know how I’m going to-!”

He couldn’t anymore. Sagging, Vincent let his hair fall forward until it obscured his visage, until he was looking at his knees and feeling that hot, prickling heat behind his eyes. And he hated himself for being so weak, for being the weak one when his partner was the one who deserved comfort. For never being able to say exactly what he wanted to because so much time alone had  _ stunted  _ his ability to express himself. And there was a part of him that felt better for it, for speaking what had been weighing so heavily on his mind...but he didn’t know what the cost would be.   


There was a rustle of leather, of feathers, and before Vincent could open his eyes or raise his head, he was being drawn into a hug; his lover’s right arm settling at the small of his back while the other threaded gently, almost reverently in his hair. There was a sharp inhale, Angeal burying his face in the ebony cascade of his locks that hid the column of his throat, breathing him in like he always did, much to the gunslinger’s amazement. And the ex-Turk couldn’t help but be astonished as the appendage he’d tried to redeem and defend folded reflexively around him-around them-in another warm, somewhat fluffy embrace.

“I wish I could tell you it was okay…” His companion whispered. “I wish I could make you feel better…like you make me feel better about myself, despite what I’m becoming.” Drawing back, Angeal’s big strong hands cradled the sides of his face again. “But Vincent…” The General paused, those blue eyes seeking his; the younger man didn’t continue, not until Vincent was returning that gaze with his own ruby irises. “I was only able to make this all happen because you were there with me, beside me… And when I’m gone, Sephiroth and Genesis will be with you. They care for you, even if Genesis’ way of showing it is rather unorthodox, but the fact that he kissed you, in his own twisted way means that he cares for you more than he lets on.” There was another intermission before his partner continued. “They’re both formidable men, just like you are. If the Administration decided to fuck everything up, I’m sure you can put them back in place if you wanted to…because I believe in you, and you have to believe in yourself. People and personnel love you, not in the way you’re thinking about, but they know you’ve been trying your best to bring about a change all around the world. It needs you as much as you think it needs me…even more so.” There was a short nervous laugh, those sapphire eyes looking downwards. “I’m an old man, and while I’d never expected our time to be so short, I’m still happy. I’ve achieved all the dreams I had, and to spend the rest of my life with you… It’s…” A kiss was bestowed on his forehead. “I love you, Vincent. I want you to know how utterly and truly happy I am when I’m with you. It’s more than I’d ever wanted…more than I could ever dream for.”

Vincent wanted to fight against it, wanted to deny every compliment that the younger man was determined to lay over him. Because he didn’t  _ deserve  _ it, or so he thought. But he wanted to believe it...wanted to believe that he was enough. That didn’t change the fact that the idea of waking up alone was still terrifying, that he might live long enough to wake up surrounded by a world he didn’t know...with people he no longer recognized. He hadn’t shared that concept with Angeal yet, and at this point, he didn’t know if he should. Because the dark-haired First had enough to worry about without that knowledge that he was potentially in a relationship with someone who might never die...who might never follow him to wherever he might go. Bitterly, he wondered what his partner would think if he knew he’d tied himself to what amounted to an undead corpse. And he knew he would need to tell him, but now was not the time. Closing his eyes once more...the older man lowered his head, let it fall on Angeal’s shoulder as he tried to reign in his emotions...as he tried to come to terms with what could be.   


And he  _ needed  _ this; this sense of quiet. This calm in what felt like a massive, undulating storm that always swirled around them. The former Commander would always be the steadiness in the tempest that was their lives, and he didn’t know what he was going to do when his anchoring comfort wasn’t there anymore. He didn’t want to give up because Angeal had so much to offer the world, and it always seemed like he had so little.

“If you tell me you’re old one more time I’m going to crumble into dust.” He muttered wryly. A soft chuckle was his only reply, and he smiled into the fabric of the blue-eyed Soldier’s shirt. “I want...I want to be everything you say I am...it’s just hard to see it. I love you too.” He added. “But you’re not the only one who’s lucky.” He continued, drawing back and raising a somewhat teasing eyebrow. “If we’re going to talk about age…” Vincent trailed off and tilted his head. “Some might call me a  _ ‘cradle robber.’”   
_

“Oh shush.” was the equally jovial response before Angeal drew him forward yet again, but this time not to cuddle, but to kiss. Slow and sensual, like he was trying to elucidate what he’d spoken earlier; the barely-there slide of those calloused fingers as they caressed the side of his face, threading through his bangs and tangling in his hair, the loosening of the bandana around his forehead before it was unwound in a swish of fabric and discarded beside them. The General drew back, but just for the width of a breath, their lips still touching as the younger man whispered  _ ‘I missed you’ _ before kissing him again-languorously, as if trying to rediscover the curve of his lips with his own; the feel of stubble against his face, against his fingertips as Vincent tried to touch each and every one of them, as though in an attempt to memorize the pattern if-... Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes yet again, broke the kiss to press his forehead against the pale one in front of him. His lover’s big palm was rubbing his back over the fabric of his shirt, trying to soothe him, to comfort him.   


And his touch was a reassurance...an ease to the constant tightness and anxiety that seemed to suffuse his soul on a near-constant basis. So when Vincent sought his mouth again, it was meant as a thank you...but the warmth of his partner’s lips was something he hadn’t partaken in in a long time...so when he had the privilege to take, he drank deep. Long, leisurely and the hum of comfort became a slowly-blooming swirl of arousal. It surprised him a little bit, because despite the fact that the General was undeniably attractive, Vincent was usually slower to rouse than this...more subtle and less fervent. But the way the younger man’s hands were shifting through his hair was sending shivers over his scalp...down his neck to pool at the base of his spine. When Angeal made as if to pull back he chased the sensation, drew them back together until he could taste that paroxysm of ardency again...feel it uncurl like the first bud on a flowering tree. He was aware-distantly-that neither of them were usually this direct...but he  _ needed  _ this.   


The hand in his hair stroked through it again...gathered onyx strands between fingers until it was pushed aside to fall over his left shoulder. Fumbling slightly, the crimson-eyed man relinquished his grip on his lover’s shirtfront to scrabble at the latch to his arm-got frustrated and gave up-before throwing it over powerful shoulders and deepening the kiss, a low barely-audible utterance of his desire rolling at the back of his throat as he let his organic hand slid from Angeal’s cheek to thumb the hollow beneath his ear. And he could feel the blush that was creeping over his cheekbones...feel the heat that had previously remained only as a dull ache spread forth until his entire body felt flushed. The palm at his back suddenly felt like a searing brand of passion...like it was burning through the fabric of his shirt to create a thrumming pulse against his spine. When the General pulled away this time it was slightly further...but he pursued it anyway, mouthed at the edges of his lips until a large palm against his cheek drew his focus somewhat into the present again.   


Angeal’s eyes met his when Vincent opened his own, searching for something within his irises while the gunslinger exhaled through his lips to center his thoughts a little but to no avail. Big palms that had settled over his hips nudged him upwards, and they stood up together. Their proximity was broken but this time, it was the younger man who chased after him, more assertive as he switched their places while their lips locked yet again; deep, ardent and desirous like the hand that was trailing down his hip and brushing the side of his thigh. The crimson-eyed individual raised his leg mindlessly to drape it over the General’s hip, and the muffled groan he was rewarded with was enough for him to throw his arms yet again around his partner’s neck; to tilt his head as he drowned himself in the suffusion of the scent and the taste that was uniquely his lover’s. Curling his leg around the strong well-built waist, the ebon-haired ex-Turk was rewarded yet again with the low guttural sound, the younger man walking him backwards, which was rather making him sit against the edge of the back of his couch.   


Breaking away for air, his companion reached for his other leg, hooked it somewhat around his waist, and before Vincent could protest, the dark-haired First hoisted him up; the gunslinger had to cling on or they’d both crash to the ground. “Angeal…” He cautioned somewhat, but the younger man was determined to have his own way. He knew his lover was probably exerting himself from the way the musculature supporting him trembled slightly once in a while, the otherwise rhythmic breathing now somewhat ragged and louder than the way it normally was. It didn’t take long thankfully, a couple of strides and they were standing inside his kitchenette, the snug space between his counters enough to give him enough support for his partner not to have to carry his weight anymore. Half-leaning, half-perched atop the countertop, those strong hands which had been clasped under his haunches rose to his hips, gripping somewhat tightly while Angeal drew back, flushed-probably from the strain-before opening his eyes to gaze at him questioningly. Those pale lips parted, probably to voice the same question his lover always asked, but the gunslinger didn’t let him.

Instead he lowered his head to draw his companion into another kiss, this one slightly harder than the last had been. And it was heady, the way they grasped at each other...the manner in which their hands lingered over erogenous zones, traced flesh through clothes until he felt like he could memorize the feel of the body beneath them by mere touch alone. It wasn’t far off, because they knew the physicality of one another so well at this point...knew every dip...every rise...every valley; every facet of contoured corners and hard-soft surfaces. Like memorized music...like every inch of each other was a remembered symphony brought forth through their mouths and fingertips. A warm tongue traced the seam of Vincent’s lips and he opened with a ragged inhale...met it with his own and shivered with the heat of it. And he supposed that they were both conductors...both maestros at their stands directing the orchestra of their cohesive pleasure. The melody of sighs, of rustled fabric...the rasp of a fingertip against epidermis...all of it melded together to become a concentrated concert of covetous longing.   


The older man let his organic arm rise, brought it forward to take Angeal’s and guide it downwards...between them, to the jut of his arousal through his fatigues. The blue-eyed First caught on quickly, squeezed gently-almost teasingly-and Vincent moaned quietly against an open mouth, jerked into the gesture involuntarily before regaining control. And he could feel the soft curve of his partner’s smile against his lips, could feel his quiet appreciation for his hunger in the way his other hand tightened on his thighs. Another squeeze and the gunslinger had to break away so he could huff quietly, watching through heavy onyx lashes as the General observed his reactions ravenously, sought his reactions like a man seeking out the most precious of artifacts. Such undivided attention had him flushing further, had him surging forward to take yet another kiss, nipping at the curve of a lower lip before he threw his head back so the dark-haired soldier could give his neck equal adulation.   


And lo, the younger man did give it equal if not more audulation. The searing brand of his lover’s mouth latched onto the hollow under his ear, the timid flick of the tip of his tongue against his skin becoming bolder as he trailed lower; laved at a spot here, a broad swipe there that sent shudder after shudder traveling down his spine to pool at the bottom of his stomach. Vincent had to brace the ledge of the granite surface with one hand when Angeal’s fingers left his thighs to swiftly free the hem of his shirt from his fatigues. A calloused hand plunged in between the fabric and his body, digits rediscovering the sharp planes and angles of his physicality; rising higher as they kneaded his flesh and higher still until a thumb brushed against his nipple roughly, digging in gently while another flicked the hard stud of his flecked flesh. The moan that fell from his lips was swallowed by a ravenous mouth, the echo of the vocable rising up the General’s pale throat, and those dexterous fingers abruptly descended to his fatigues, hooking around the waistband before slowly dragging it down his thighs.

The slight grazing of the fabric and soon, cool air was hitting his erection, making Vincent break the congress of their lips to come up for air, his exhalation rushing through his teeth in a hiss. Soft strands of onyx were tickling his chin slightly as Angeal ducked his head to look at his cock with the same fascination and curiosity he had the first time they’d done it inside a hotel-that its name escaped his mind-back at Corel.

“ _ ‘Geal-...! _ ”

The younger man raised his head only to be distracted by something-the side of his neck-the former Commander gripping his thighs and drawing him forward; and he had to hook his legs and hands around the strong well-built physicality of his lover not to fall down from over the edge of the countertop. The stiff outline of Angeal’s hard-on pressed against his backside, and a deep groan was muffled inside his throat as his partner didn’t seem to be able to get enough of the spot he was laving at. Sucking hard enough to leave a bruise, and Vincent jerked forward; the soft yet frictious drag of fabric against the underside of his arousal making it a hard decision between rutting forward to chase that sensation or rolling his hips against the massive erection his companion was sporting.

In the end, he went for the General’s shirt; which was more difficult than he anticipated. Because the younger man’s shirt was somewhat hung up on his wing. The gunslinger managed to get it about three-quarters of the way over Angeal’s head before he relinquished all logical thought and simply ripped it straight down the middle. For a moment, both of them looked momentarily shocked, and he supposed it was fitting because he’d never exactly destroyed clothing to get to anyone’s naked body before. But then the blue-eyed man chuckled...leaning forward to mouth at his lips in a teasing manner as Vincent managed to finagle the remains of the garment over ivory alula and coverts before letting it drop to the floor. Pearlescent plumage rustled and flared somewhat before the appendage drew back to tuck itself tightly against the former Commander’s spine; and then he was distracted by the miles of skin that his hands could covetously traverse. Warm beneath his fingertips...pale with occasionally dusky shading whose meaning didn’t particularly matter to him at the moment...only touch was prevalent. And where his palms ventured his mouth followed, over the jut of an alabaster clavicle...across powerful shoulders and the body beneath his lips shuddered for it...reached up to tangle in his hair even as the younger man rutted into him once more.   


Kicking his fatigues off in an impatient series of movements, the older man moved back somewhat so he could get a hand between them, palming the outline of Angeal’s erection with wayward fingers as he felt it stiffen further in his grasp. Vincent’s lips parted with the low groan he received in response, eyes heavy as he kissed him again...somewhat distractedly this time as he flicked desperately at the buttons that were keeping that magnificent cock from his view. Familiar digits were trailing down the side of his erection, tracing the inside of his thigh before dancing down his perineum and the crimson-eyed ex-Turk bit his lip to keep himself from moaning, undulated into the movement while yanking somewhat desperately at the fastening to Angeal’s belt. It occurred to him in that moment that he didn’t have any lube on his person; which annoyed him somewhat when he was able to form the idea into a somewhat coherent thought. Shoving a hand between his partner’s waistline and his fatigues and wiggling his fingers, he decided that hoping the younger man had brought some was a fine way to go about things. He proceeded to distract himself with trying to disrobe the dark-haired First once more.   


“You’re wearing too much.” He muttered, sucking at the General’s pulse-point before replacing his mouth with his tongue.   


Angeal tried to place a kiss under the hollow of his ear as his voice washed over the shell of his auricle, and the crimson-eyed individual could feel rather than see the smile on those pale lips. “Honestly, I didn’t anticipate any of this, but…” There was the clink of buckles getting unfastened, and his lover’s fingers helped his in unbuttoning the younger man’s pants that were making him slightly frustrated while the owner of said fatigues helped push them down. The fabric pooled around his companion’s ankles, and Vincent almost wanted to groan in a rather dissatisfied fashion, or remark how he hated the boxer briefs the General wore. While he was busy yanking them down, his companion pulled back, almost all the way away, one hand supporting the gunslinger’s hips while the other reached for something outside of the ex-Turk’s line of sight which was currently set on the elastic waistband of the offending underwear. When he returned, it was with a bottle of salad oil.

Raising an appreciative eyebrow, the ebon-haired gunman couldn’t help the smile that stretched over his lips, his lover mirroring his expression before Vincent looked down and pulled the final garment down on his partner’s person. There was more rustle of clothes, probably Angeal trying to toe off his pants, but he couldn’t help but be distracted by the image he had in mind. Drawing the younger individual closer with his legs that were curling around a powerful lean waist, the gunslinger breathed through the part of his own lips as their erections dragged along one another, slightly slick with precum, but not enough. That was before the blue-eyed soldier decided to slowly drizzle the oil he’d retrieved from the opposite counter on their erections, and the groan that escaped the Banoran’s pale lips made him want to grin, to kiss those lips and curl his hand around their arousals and stroke.   


The jovial expression pulling on the corners of his mouth however, didn’t have the chance to take form as hot moist lips closed around his. Angeal fed him a deep groan as he covered his hand, palming their aligned erections together with his warm calloused palm, his other hand kneading the flesh of his glutes somewhat in rhythm with their strokes. And when those-now-oily fingers left his to trace a slick warm trail over his hips and ass, then lower and lower still along the crevice of his asscheeks, Vincent could help but shiver and arc his back; to jerk his hips forward against his lover’s hard cock and his own hand.

“You’re beautiful.” The dark-haired First uttered huskily, his blue eyes drinking in the sight of him like he was the most brilliant star of the night sky.   


The only thing that escaped him that could have been considered a reply was a soft hiss of breath through his teeth. And the sensations rippling across his skin were tempestuous now, fiery and swollen and he  _ wanted.  _ Textured digits stroked across the furl of his entrance...fore and middle finger; and the smooth trail of subtle moisture they left in their wake had a shiver blossoming up from the base of his spine to curl over his back like a tree stretching its branches to the sky and outwards over the horizon. And of course Angeal was going to take his time...was going to utilize just as much caring as he always did and Vincent was forced to bend his neck, to let his head loll back mindlessly to keep himself from demanding more. Because as eager as his body was he  _ enjoyed  _ this...enjoyed the litany of soft touches that became slowly more insistent over the passage of chronology. Easy, searching pressure in circinate motions...spiraling nudges that eased...loosened until it was less of an anticipatory encroachment and more of a needy throb that burgeoned until the first finger breached him...effortless in its passage. Slick, hot and the sensation of fullness coupled with the low, unkempt groan that spilled from the back of his throat. His right leg jerked reflexively...muscles bunching, toes curling as his body welcomed his lover’s gradual ingress...opened to him like it always did in the face of the younger man’s careful focus.   


He wasn’t able to concentrate on the rhythm his hand was trying to settle into like this, and he envied Angeal his dexterity...his ability to take him apart both ways and make it somehow breathlessly flawless. And when Vincent lifted his head to look at his partner it was to find cerulean irises watching him avidly; drinking in his reactions like they were priceless gems dancing before his eyes. Swallowing, the crimson-eyed gunslinger attempted to focus himself...to concentrate through the haze of pleasure that was making his mind feel fuzzy and absent. Swiping his thumb over the apex of their combined arousals he shivered as another finger was added...as the two flexed before delving deep...crooking upwards and he made a noise that was half exhale and half moan as they pressed against his prostate and sent a river of fire surging through his groin. It was a stretched, tight sensation but it was still  _ good... _ still wanted. And with every stroke...every inward thrust it felt like they were relearning each other...becoming a cohesive unit again despite everything. The kiss he was drawn into this time was distracted and somewhat sloppy but he could still feel the flush dusting his cheeks deepen with the ardour of it...still feel it through the length of his physicality as he accepted the tongue that delved between his lips...drew it deep and sucked mindlessly. Three fingers and the world was a dim backdrop to the slow build of desire...glassy and shrouded under the fire that burned between them and Vincent made a small, wholly desperate sound in the back of his throat as he tipped his hips upward in what he hoped was an indicative gesture...pushing Angeal’s hand away so he could relinquish his own cock and palm the girth of his lover’s erection hungrily.   


“‘Geal’” He slurred. “ _ Please…”   
_

His lover’s slick hand returned to his post on his hip, but the way those digits curled over his flesh, digging in slightly before thinking better was enough indication of Angeal’s desire, of his need as a head of onyx lowered itself to his shoulder; his name falling over the lips that trailed kisses along his clavicle like the blooming of cherry florets at the start of spring. Again and again the younger man whispered his name, as though it was a mantra that would bring him salvation, that would bring him bliss… The dark-haired General didn’t seem to have enough of the texture of his skin, the roughness of his stubble in a stark contrast with how that perfect soft mouth was tracing the map of his body, only stopping whenever Vincent’s breath so much as hitched; whenever his fingers mindlessly tangled themselves in the long ebony locks, freeing the ponytail so he could luxuriate his hands in the waterfall of silky tresses as they cascaded to powerful shoulders.   


His breath rushed tremulous through the slight part of his mouth before he was ensnared, lush lips closing over his, sucking gently, slow and sensual and no less fervent than the other kisses they had shared. There was the cold slick feeling of oil as more of it was poured over his fingers which were stroking his lover’s cock, and this time Angeal broke away, exhaling raggedly. His digits were prised open gently, and the crimson-eyed ex-Turk leaned slightly more on the countertop, still hooking his arms around his lover’s neck and his legs ‘round a strong well-built waist as the head of the younger man’s cock slid against his perineum. Hissing between parted lips as the General mistook it for his entrance, the soldier mumbled an apology and another litany of kisses were bestowed upon his torso. They shifted around a little, trying to find an angle that could work, and finally, there was the press of an engorged head against his entrance; slowly, almost too slowly and in a way that made Vincent think about the word ‘delicate’ for a moment before the press become a stretch that was slightly streaked with pain. He tried to relax, sweat breaking over his skin, and he closed his eyes shut when the halting ingress of his lover’s cock didn’t make the sensation go away.

Familiar fingers brushed the wayward strands that had stuck to his face and forehead away, a thumb caressing back and forth against the side of his face and temple as Angeal whispered his name, his voice tinged with worry. “Vincent.” The digit didn’t stop its somewhat soothing, grounding motion until the older man opened his eyes to meet fretting blue irises gazing at him.   


“I’m okay.” He muttered. “Just...slow.”

Asking for slow from Angeal was rather like asking for glacial pace, as it turned out. He wasn’t unappreciative of it, however, because he did need the time to adjust...to breathe through it. Oil was not the same as lube and he made a mental note to carry some with him regardless of the circumstances. The lull in their congress was a bit of an unspoken blessing, because he was fairly sure that he’d be dangerously close to orgasm otherwise...and he wanted to savor this...wanted to remember this for a long time afterward. When his lover was fully seated within him they both remained still for a moment...hands tangling in hair...over skin as they sat poised on the edge of descent and ascent. Flexing his hips, Vincent shifted slightly, felt his companion shudder in response. The residual ache still lingered, but not enough that it was going to overtake the pleasure. Coaxing the General upwards, the older man waited until their eyes were locked before moving suggestively, exhaling as the glorious sight of his partner’s flushed cheeks and glassy gaze came into view. Mouthing feather-light over parted lips, he let his organic arm wrap around the younger man’s neck before he spoke.   


“You can move.”

His surety-of course-was not enough to entirely stamp out Angeal’s hesitation. The blue-eyed First acquiesced to his urging carefully; drew his hips back in a fluid movement before gradually driving upwards and inwards again. Long...slow and  _ deep  _ and it was a gratifying feeling. Even with the slight drag, the minimal resistance it was still good and the moisture that broke over his skin this time was accompanied by hair-raising goosebumps that pebbled his skin and accosted him with a hot-cold sensation that coiled low in his belly. The gunslinger’s eyelids dropped involuntarily at the impetus of the first thrust and he rocked into it...nearly toppled backwards before he was forced to bring his arm back again to steady himself as Angeal groaned and then withdrew once more...gently-always gently-before he thrust forward once more. Tentativeness was given over slightly in favor of a rhythm when it became clear that the older man wasn’t experiencing any discomfort and he revelled in it...let his head fall forward and then back, bit his lower lip until he was drawn into another kiss and the next steady ingress hit his prostate dead-center.   


_ “Hnn…”   
_

A new sound, somewhat wan but somehow filled to the brim with covetous voracity and Angeal’s answering huff was ragged against his skin, the hand at his hip gripping him reflexively as he sought unconscious purchase. Again, and again, and the pleasure that was coursing through his veins was a heady drug, intoxicating him beyond coherency and he was cognizant of the utterances that dropped from his lips only after they had indeed escaped him, coaxing equally unhinged vocables from his dark-haired lover. And Vincent wasn’t really sure where his partner’s action ended and his reaction started, couldn’t differentiate where his descent ended and the General’s sure ascent began, their undulating motions unraveling both of them as the waves of the bluest of oceans the tapestry of the shore. The younger man’s powerful hands were sometimes a feather-light caress against his sweat-dappled skin, and the other times assertive covetous broad swipes, kneading, hard and hungry for the feel of the sinew flexing just underneath the epidermis.

“Vinc-...”   


The first syllable of his name as Angeal thrusted a bit harder this time, and Vincent went with it, threw his head back, and the groan that he was rewarded with was even more ravenous than the mouth that latched onto his exposed throat; than the hands that gripped his hips tighter still. Their rhythm quickened, both of them mindless of how deep or how hard they slammed against one another in between. The litany of the ‘ _ Hnn… _ ’s and his lover’s muffled grunts as he sucked and kissed his neck filled the minute intermissions of their sharp slapping cacophonous melody. The General’s exhales were ghosting over his damp skin, hot and yet cool against his heated flesh as the younger man slowed down again, breathing through his lips as he leant his forehead against the ebon-haired ex-Turk’s shoulder.   


“Vincent…” An egress of breath. They were still again, before a slick calloused hand curled around his now straining cock, and it wasn’t oil but more  _ spit _ -the raven-haired gunslinger realized-and the image that flashed behind his closed eyelids of how those strong fingers gathered saliva while those burning blue irises always watched him with undivided attention, made him buck forward. Angeal hissed and followed his movement before reigning both of them in with his other hand. “I’m close…” The soldier whispered before placing a kiss on his clavicle as firm upward-downward strokes started traversing the length of his erection.

He couldn’t think, could only shift somewhat desperately against the steady but firm grip his partner had on him before acquiescing somewhat. Glancing downward, he watched as the head of his cock was enveloped in the younger man’s grasp...leaking precome over his knuckles in a fluid pearly string. The General chose that moment to thrust upward slightly and sparks rolled up from his nether regions to explode outwards. Angeal took up a series of hard, deep forward movements that had him clenching involuntarily, a gasp falling from his lips before he could stop it. It was a little bit of an incoherent from there; both of them too caught up to really hold back at that point. And Vincent couldn’t press close enough, couldn’t touch enough, couldn’t think enough. Levering himself up on the opposite arm he lifted his organic hand to try and pull the blue-eyed First closer but he soon found himself curling it inwards...hovering just above his chest as his fingers flexed involuntarily with the hot coil of pleasure that seemed to rise up to issue from the very tips of trembling digits as his brows drew together somewhat. And the dark-haired soldier took the opportunity to lean forward and mouth mindlessly at the outward corner of his knuckles...tongue tracing downwards until it was just above his wrist.   


His body stiffened somewhat, the gradually constricting spiral within him contracting sharply with barely any warning at all. Vincent felt himself arch, heard the surprised and needy sound that fell from his lips as his arm shot forward to scrabble at a powerful shoulder. Angeal slowed to grind almost leisurely into his prostate and it was a hot, aching throb that seemed to encompass the entirety of his physicality...like a film stretched too-tight over a well of acuity. And the hand on his cock only doubled the sensation, multiplied it until he didn’t know what to do with himself. Dimly, he was aware that his partner was taking as much satisfaction from watching him fall apart as he was from his body. Somewhat indignantly, the older man wondered how his companion expected him  _ ‘not’  _ to fall apart when he was doing such an incredible job of it. The blue-eyed First nipped somewhat playfully just below his jaw but he wasn’t in a very great state of mind in terms of being able to reciprocate. Because if Angeal was close he was frankly shocked that he hadn’t embarrassed himself. A hand eased itself just under his ass...nudged him forward to get a better angle and the sensation it garnered was so good it was almost too much but not quite. And Vincent was aware of the picture he presented; flushed with some of his hair sticking to his face...the fringe of a part of his bangs plastered against his lips as he met the younger man thrust for thrust.   


_ “Yes”  _ He huffed, worked his hips into it as long, onyx strands fell forward to obscure his visage.  _ “Good.”   
_

The smile that stretched Angeal’s lips was bright, one that reached his eyes and lighted the depths of those sapphire irises; breathless as he glanced up at him, before looking down between them at Vincent’s precum-slicked cock that kept disappearing and reappearing inside that firm grasp. “ _ Yes. _ ” The younger man echoed, blowing through pursed lips as he bowed his head, closing his eyes and slowing down his thrusts even further. Deep, languid and almost out all the way his partner drew back, the stretch returning but this time as a mind-melting wave of euphoria that had his toes curling and his heels digging in at the base of the General’s spine.

“Move.” The ebon-haired gunslinger huffed impatiently, taking the initiative himself only to have his partner move against him at the same time, and the somewhat resounding slap of sinew against well-built musculature was almost too much, and at the same time he couldn’t help but want for more...as if the bottom of his stomach was a limitless pool and no matter the amount of pleasure that surged down his spine in waves of delicious fervent desire or the tiny whirligigs of shivers, it didn’t seem to be enough. Vincent didn’t seem to have enough.   


“Vincent…” The younger man uttered breathlessly, his rhythm faltering as the shade of roseate that had dusted those cheekbones seemed to expand down to the strong column of a pale neck. A ragged exhalation, and the ex-Turk didn’t wait for him to continue, curling the fingers of his organic hand over the jut of a shoulder before lifting and lowering his hips. He was rewarded with a grunt of acquiescence before Angeal was meeting his thrusts which made him mirror his lover’s expression from minutes ago. His lover didn’t seem to have any intentions of slowing down this time, however the hand that had been working around his arousal had chosen to grip the base of his penis while the blue-eyed soldier shifted their position slightly. And the next ingress of the girthy hard-on hit his prostate again, didn’t let up as the motion was repeated over and over again, in an escalating succession that seemed to make the sea of pleasure pooling at the base of his spine rise in a tidal wave.

The air between them seemed to get hotter with every huff of overloud breath that escaped the younger man’s parted lips. The strong broad back of his lover bowed, his movements becoming frenzied and arrhythmic as he chased after his own release that seemed to be dawning on him in a pair of furrowed brows and tightly shut eyes. “Vincen-...” The General breathed, the hand cupping his ass tightening along with the rest of that lithe body.

Vincent had-he estimated-perhaps five seconds to register that Angeal was coming before his own orgasm hit him so fast and so hard he couldn’t do anything to stop it. Cum suffused clenched fingers as he exploded between them, and he’d never exactly shouted during sex before but this was evidently a time when his body was night going to obey his brain because the hoarse exclamation that left his lips was  _ loud.  _ Self-consciously, scarlet eyes snapped to those of his partner but the only expression on Angeal’s face was a dazed, delirious sort of pleasure and a deep, loving affection. He sought his lips then, not only for reassurance but to ground the both of them as their physicalities surged together...as the younger man emptied himself within him, his hand leaving the gunslinger’s softening arousal to thread through his hair as he kissed him appreciatively, almost lazily before his head dropped to his shoulder once more. Shivering, the ex-Turk rode the aftershocks of his own orgasm in a distracted manner...kept himself in the moment by stroking his organic hand over the soft stubble of his lover’s cheek. When they were both still, he closed his eyes and breathed deep, pulled away so he could nuzzle into the hollow under the former Commander’s ear.

“I love you.” He murmured.

It seemed to take a moment for his words to register. When they did, the blue-eyed First’s soft smile was apparent against his shoulder blade. And Vincent wanted to stay like this...in the moment...when things were so quiet between them and everything seemed well with the world. He knew they had to face reality eventually, but it was peaceful here...with just the two of them. And he wanted  _ more time _ , he wanted so much more time; at the same time he was worried about being selfish, about getting distracted from the reality of how things were. The sound that escaped him next was softer...slightly aggrieved even as he tried to conceal it. He winced somewhat as the General withdrew, as he stepped up close to the counter so they could wrap themselves around each other more fully. Of all the emotions coagulating within him, the most prominent was  _ gratefulness.  _ He was so grateful to have this...and he didn’t know how he had gotten so lucky. Sliding his fingers up a pale bicep, Vincent settled into his partner’s embrace.

“Thank you.” He said quietly. As the memory of their rather rough lovemaking session played out behind his eyelids, he stiffened and moved back...suddenly concerned. “I pushed you so hard” The older man exclaimed, somewhat horrified. “Are you alright?”

Again, the same smiling blue eyes met his worried crimson ones, and although there was nothing remotely suggesting that his lover was tired, Vincent couldn’t stop the feeling that was quickly expanding inside him that the younger man was probably exhausted and was trying not to let it show. The gentle kiss that was bestowed upon his forehead could only mitigate the unease bubbling up his throat in another aggrieved noise so much before the gunslinger reigned it in this time. Drawing back, Angeal was still smiling when he spoke. “I’m alright, but I’m  _ this _ close to falling asleep.” Making a gesture with his fingers to show how close he was to dozing off, the expression on the pale face widened into an ephemeral grin. Holding his inorganic hand and drawing backwards in a motion that had the ex-Turk following the blue-eyed soldier, off of the countertop and onto his feet a little shakily, a strong arm steadied him before another kiss was pressed against his temple. “I love you, too.”   


And Vincent really couldn’t help but notice the fatigued undertone running alongside the younger man’s words, the way his body seemed to sag infinitesimally but surely minute by minute as Angeal washed his hand inside the kitchen sink and then bent down to retrieve his underwear from the pile of clothes. Kind blue irises were watching him from underneath onyx lashes as he did so, and it took the ex-Turk a moment to realize that he was probably staring for too long, and far too obviously for his own liking before excusing himself to the living room and unfolding the couch. There was a voice at the back of his mind that was whispering that by quickly arranging the bed and busying himself with bringing a blanket to cover them both, he was confirming any sneaking suspicion the dark-haired General might have had about his behavior. Trying to quell such thoughts to address later, his hands twisted inside the fabric as he tried concentrating on the here and now, on the beautiful tangible moments they had shared only minutes ago. When he turned around, the said item in hand, his lover was already lying down, facing away from him and on his stomach. And the ex-Turk wouldn’t really be surprised to find him already asleep as his feet slowly and soundlessly carried him toward their bed, to drape the comforter over the younger man’s strong pale body.

Turning out the lights...Vincent stood there for a moment, took a minute to observe...to memorize the sight of his partner lying in bed. Because no matter what happened he wanted to remember this...wanted to be able to recall such moments when times were dark. When he finally crawled into bed, Angeal shifted before mumbling something nonsensical and turning to gently maneuver the older man onto his side so they were facing each other...looping an arm around the gunslinger’s waist, the blue-eyed First tugged him close…‘till the ex-Turk could tuck his head just under the General’s chin. A hand stroked the back of his head but once...traveled downwards over the fall of his hair before going still. And despite the fact that the former Commander fell asleep almost immediately afterwards, Vincent remained awake in the dark for hours beyond the time when they fell into bed...staring into the darkness. Because even though Genesis’ arrival had given him hope...he was afraid to hope too much...and he didn’t want to lose a second of this...felt that sleeping was a ridiculous concept when he could just lay there and listen to his lover breathe. He knew without asking that the dark-haired soldier would disapprove, but he didn’t have the mental strength to do otherwise. And when Angeal woke up in the morning, he pretended that he’d slept as well...even though concerned sapphire irises traced the deepening circles under his eyes as if they didn’t quite believe him. In truth...the gunslinger couldn’t remember the last time he slept. And as the sun rose over the shimmering rise of HQ, he faced yet another day with one part happiness and another part dread.

...Because while Vincent was afraid of losing this...he was more afraid of missing whatever time they had left.   



	6. Chapter Five

If he were to say that he’d searched all around the globe, it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch.   


Despite the fact that all the materia were housed on the Western Continent, Fuhito had had to spend too many hours at any library that held the smallest facet of information about the materias that had been forged by the planet, or anything marginally related to the old world. And while the Public Library of Midgar was rumored to be the most complete one across the planet, the bespectacled scientist had been so thoroughly disappointed.

His search had been more or less fruitless. He’d read columns of tomes, and while some of them gave him the location of one materia, they left out mentioning anything about the rest; not to mention how inconclusive and inaccurate some of them were. Gathering the scattered information he’d so painstakingly researched, he’d left with a squad of their men and ten members of the Ravens for Cosmo Canyon. During the time he’d been trying to learn about Zirconiade from his former mentor, Bugenhagen, AVALANCHE was rallying against Shinra, protesting about all the things they had fed the people. That they were still feeding the populace.   


That even Elfé, Shears and Aerith believed in.

The same things Fuhito had led them to believe.

The thought was enough to bring a smirk to his lips as he walked through the corridors of their base in the slums, but it was short-lived as he caught a glimpse of that brunette braid ending in a big pink bow.   


The Cetra girl.   


She was a dangerous one. Once, she had mentioned to Elfé that she heard an old voice inside her that was in pain, and Fuhito had tried his damnedest to divert the subject to anything and nothing in particular. He knew that she was talking about Zirconiade but the bespectacled man couldn’t have her reveal anything about it to their leader-which was another one of the things he had led them to believe; lies, that’s what they all were. Aerith seemed to be more of a trouble than she was a help. Their ‘flower girl’-as the members of Shears’ gang, some of their other men, and the people called her-seemed to have slowly but surely won their hearts with her naivete and her all around jovial and kind attitude. And with her insisting that they try not to be the first one to rise to the offensive, to be the  _ chivalrous _ one even if it was Shinra who decided to engage in violence first, she had effectively ruined their first chance at a riot.

If only he had been there to supervise the whole movement, none of that would have happened. They had managed to persuade Shinra to agree to their call for a referendum on the fact that ‘people would agree to Shinra’s rule and the indefinite wait time until the first mako reactor would be shut down’. Now, while Fuhito was never one to use any terms outside the formal choice of words, but frankly that was sheer bull. Of course they would sabotage whatever results they got afterwards to remain in power.

Promises, especially those from one man who-as far as Fuhito knew-didn’t seem to have much influence in the company, were nothing but hollow words.

Regardless, time couldn’t be reversed, and he hadn’t been there. His time with Bugenhagen had proved to be far more valuable than he had anticipated. Not only had he learnt about Zirconiade and had his mentor confirm the hypotheses in those books about the location of the support materias, the old man had mentioned something about Omega. An ultimate weapon the Planet had created when the calamity had fallen from the skies to protect itself. A weapon the Planet seemed to have been trying to awaken for quite a while now, only to have someone block its calling. Fuhito had known that the scientist could hear the voices of the Planet, but he had never really seen it happen firsthand, right before his eyes.   


Asking about the said weapon after his mentor had been more cognizant in the aftermath of his episode with the Planet, Bugenhagen could only refer him to a handful of myths and the researches of another scientist who worked with Shinra in the past, called Grimoire Valentine. Claiming that these were all hypotheses because he had left the company before Valentine could find any proof for what he had speculated, the old man had informed him that Omega is akin to an ark that would guide all life to the boundless sea of stars, though how it’d scourge the Planet of all life the scientist didn’t know.

The information had opened up a whole realm of possibilities for his plan.   


It had been a shame, however, to follow his mentor’s advice seeking more about the Omega all the way to Nibelheim only to find the Shinra Mansion-which probably housed all the secrets about the ultimate weapon-in nothing but cinders and incinerated rubble. Scavenging through the crumbling remains of the building had proved just as futile; up until one of the Ravens had come back to him with a materia. And if Fuhito’s spirits had plummeted before, a new light had started shining inside his mind, a hope to see his plan fulfilled, to see the natural order of things restored and all Lifestream returned to the planet, so it could heal and begin again.

Two other materia he’d found in the outskirts of Corel. After days of searching with his own crew, the town inhabitants were willing to help in exchange for a handful of gil, which-if the bespectacled man was honest-had been an immeasurable help as they were more familiar with their locale than he and his men. He’d also had the chance to preach to them about how Shinra was sucking the Planet’s life force dry, but he’d received mixed feedback from the population. It seemed that while some of the people were inclined to believe his words easily, the company’s efforts in renovating the municipality had been enough to blind them from the truth.   


Far be it from him to try and pressure them into believing his words.   


_ Cattle _ , that’s what they were. And soon, he wouldn’t have to worry about them believing his words, because no one would be living on the face of the globe anymore.   


The last support materia needed for summoning Zirconiade he found in the mako reactor inside Gongaga. As the place was off limits to almost anyone except Shinra personnel, he’d been forced to engage in a fight, and that was when he’d tested the ability of his special unit. Ruthless, just as he was, they’d murdered anyone in their path, and thanks to the mako in their systems, their affinity with magic had helped destroy the mako reactor after they had retrieved what the scientist had been looking for. Watching the explosion from afar, Fuhito hadn’t been able to stop the sensation of zeal rising up within him as he realized that every person dead meant he was one step closer to his goal, one among the uncountable, but one step closer nonetheless. He’d been almost vibrating with joy at being able to set his plan into motion whenever he deemed necessary.   


Upon his return, and after the discovery of their party’s utter failure at doing what he’d had in mind, Fuhito had been very much tempted to summon Zirconiade right then and there. But two things had held back his hand.

For one, Bugenhagen’s words about Omega and how someone was keeping it at bay by merely  _ praying  _ to the Planet had still been fresh on his mind.   


The second reason, however, had come at a much later point, while he’d been scheming how to force the praying that was powerful enough to keep the ultimate weapon back to stop; how to break her soul and her restraint in a way so she would be the harbinger for it instead. It was the news of Sephiroth’s return to the headquarters, along with Genesis Rhapsodos that seemed to have become the trending word-of-mouth. It had been enough to infuriate the portion of the population that had sided with them so much so that they were urging them to call the people to a riot. And this time, they’d also have the support of those who hated Sephiroth and SOLDIER as well. The silver-haired man had killed their family members when he’d gone on a rampage a year ago, or those who hated him for whatever reason. Fuhito really didn’t care that the man who once had been the General of the Shinra army and its poster boy was back from incarceration and exile; which had been the reason that had enraged everyone, even the seemingly always cheerful Aerith. What he cared about was riding the wave of rage so one of the sides would start the slaughter that was bound to happen, and in effect, bring upon the beginning of the end for the Shinra Company.   


There was also the question of what plot to devise to have two of the most powerful individuals on the planet on his side of the game, so when the time was right, nothing would be able to stop his plan. And in case it was thwarted, he would have two weapons of mass destruction who’d be able to lay waste to the Planet in less than a month.

So when the phrase  _ ‘persuading Shinra to give them over as hostage until the referendum’ _ had rolled off his tongue, everyone in the crowd that had gathered was in total agreement with him.   


Arriving to where Shears, Elfé and Aerith were waiting for him to get their more assertive and angry riot started, Fuhito opened his mouth, his face devoid of any outward emotion as he observed the last of the Cetras. “You seem to be impatient for this one.”   


Aquamarine eyes flashed at his comment, and pert lips twisted into an entirely uncharacteristic expression of anger. If he could equate it to anything, it would be  _ rage.  _ And his mentality whispered  _ good,  _ because rage was exactly what he needed for this to go the way he wanted it to. And if the girl was too bent on seeing justice meted out to focus on that kind facet of her personality, all the better. He waited for her to speak, because he knew that she didn’t entirely trust him...and it was better for her to say it on her own than for him to siphon it out of her. Fuhito wasn’t fond of her, but she had the favor of the men, and he couldn’t afford to ostracize her when so many critical things were coming to a head.   


“Sephiroth killed a lot of people” was the tight response.   


He considered the comment and accepted that it was personal. Aerith had lost someone to the Demon of Wutai...which in of itself was interesting.   


“Shinra has killed a lot of people.” He replied carefully.   


Delicate brows drew together as the young woman balled her hands into fists.   


“Yeah, but back then, those Soldiers were just following orders.” She said, and the passion behind her response caused her voice to tremble slightly. “Sephiroth killed people for no reason other than just  _ killing. _ ”   


Well.   


_ Interesting.  _ She wasn’t going to tell him who exactly she had lost, but she was good at deflecting the comment...he’d give her that. It gave him something to work with in the future, that much was certain. Because if he couldn’t get her to entirely assimilate to his cause without question, he could certainly use her anger against her desire for goodwill. Putting a sincere expression on his face, he lifted his hand and put it on a slender shoulder.   


“You’re absolutely right.” He said gravely. “And today, we will have our demands met, or we will exact our justice...as is our privilege as free people.”   


He had expected the girl to flinch or shrug off his gesture, but the fact that she only tensed, momentarily and then relaxed, but just slightly, told him that despite the fact that they didn’t always see eye to eye, Aerith respected him. And though he usually preferred fear, he could also work with respect. Until it wasn’t convenient for him to work with it.

Elfé nodded toward the exit, muttering a terse  _ ‘Let’s go’ _ before turning around. Shears had always followed their leader like her own shadow, and it seemed now that Aerith had also joined him in doing so. Wondering briefly about what might have brought up such a change in the green-eyed brunette’s behavior, Fuhito fell into step behind them.   


It seemed that the new Shinra was totally oblivious to what was going on around their empire. While the previous regime had been blind in its greed for power, for more mako and bloodshed, this one seemed to be suffering from the same narrow-mindedness, only in the opposite direction; continuous renovations. That was fine in of itself, but they didn’t seem to take into account what the people were asking of them at the moment. The bespectacled man didn’t see the need to concern himself with these matters more than the level they affected his plans. Right now, people wanted Sephiroth dead, and the scientist was sure every single soul that joined their throng had their own visions for how the act was to be executed.   


He also wanted to laugh at how Shinra had thought that they could bring the silver-haired man and the same redheaded fellow whose blood Hollander had been using to make copies without anyone getting wind of it. They had been so keen on holding press conferences before-he wondered, albeit mockingly-so why had it  _ escaped _ their minds to hold one before bringing them back? The answer was obvious, and thus his query was redundant; Shinra knew that people would riot the minute they informed the populace of their return, so they had conveniently  _ forgotten _ to let the populace know. Though, no matter how he tried to look at different angles of the scenario, he couldn’t understand why those former Soldiers were here in the first place. What plan was Shinra hatching that needed their worst enemies-whom they had so effectively imprisoned and exiled-back at the heart of their empire?

He was determined to find out.

Aside from their lack of oversight, the freedom this new Shinra granted could be the opportunity for movements like theirs to flourish, and possibly reach their full potential. It wasn’t something he could deny. If everything was run the same way they had in the old regime, there was bound to be violence involved when their great numbers flooded the streets on the upper plate. People were shouting ‘Down with Shinra!’ and ‘Down with Sephiroth!’, and the clamor was enough to draw out any curious person to their windows or their doors, and their army of protesters kept growing steadily.

Fuhito didn’t allow himself to get caught up in it. His focus was-after all-slightly different than theirs and the mob mentality was a little bit abhorrent if he were entirely honest with himself. Nevertheless, he played the part when it was appropriate; held his head high and urged the people onwards. Through packed streets and dusty alleyways, across byways and below towering skyscrapers. Loud, crowded and generally the essence of what humanity truly was; it only served to fuel the fire to his true purpose...his endgame.   


By the time they reached the gates to Shinra, someone was already waiting for them. From his overall appearance and Elfé’s description of him, he supposed that it must be the famed Vincent Valentine. Narrowing his eyes, he acknowledged that the reports he had received were overall correct. Cold...impassive...shuttered. He was intensely disappointed that he didn’t know anything about him, that the individual before him was an anomaly he hadn’t anticipated; because he was clearly not a SOLDIER, and his dress indicated no other sort of affiliation with the company at all. At the sight of him, the crowd seemed to rile further...there was a great surge forward...an ingress towards the gates. Fuhito let them...because he wanted to see how the shadow before them would react.   


When Valentine didn’t so much as twitch, he wasn’t particularly surprised.   


A professional then, he supposed. Possibly an agent SOLDIER had kept hidden all this time just for purposes such as this. Because as long as the masses had nothing to fight against...no resistance, it wasn’t exactly exhilarating. Vincent was...effectively, a dampener. He could weather the storm of shouts and curses because he’d been trained to do so...or so he assumed. He was-however-not entirely ignorant...because he didn’t miss the shadows under those crimson eyes, nor the strain that seemed to suffuse the entirety of his adversary’s being. And he seemed  _ distracted... _ as if this was something of less importance than something else...something closer...something  _ personal.   
_

Fuhito called for halt before they took down the gates, because he still wanted to keep up the image of being benevolent. Elfé made as if to stride forward, but he stopped her with a firm glance. She retreated, if somewhat unwillingly. Ignoring this for the moment, he swept through the crowd, which parted before them. As he did so, Valentine drew closer as well...smooth and silent as a shadow. Gold-plated boots made a distinct clanking noise against the concrete and then were still. Drawing level with the entryway, he stood for a moment...locked their gazes and made his challenge clear. Again...no response...and it was starting to rile him...that dead sense of impassivity. Pushing it aside for the time being, he opened his mouth to speak.   


“Vincent Valentine. I suppose you know why we’re here.” Fuhito uttered calmly, neutrally and yet loud enough for those close enough to hear what he was saying. “We were promised a referendum, and instead, Shinra drags a war criminal and a former starred First Class back to their headquarters like dirty little secrets.” Letting his lips twist into a shadow of a smirk, he continued. “You made sure to hold press conferences for when you wanted to get them incarcerated and exiled instead of executed, but didn’t think it’d be necessary to hold one now? Or maybe...you simply  _ forgot? _ ” Schooling his face into a mask of detachment. “A little too convenient, don’t you think?”

Crimson irises studied him for a moment, as if observing him would give ebon-haired man answers that his words couldn’t. Somewhat scornfully, he found himself wondering if the man ever considered the fact that he wasn’t very much unlike an inanimate statue. Someone shouted something off-color at the back of the crowd, but he ignored it.   


“We both know excuses won’t help Shinra here.” was the even response. “So why even ask for them?” Vincent shifted and looked away, his gaze distracted again. “I'm not here to drag this out with a back and forth.” He continued after a moment. “We are fully aware of the crimes committed against the people in terms of such persons of interest. If you're looking for an explanation, I'm not going to give it to you...but I will hear your terms...if you have any.” There was a pause, and when he spoke again his voice carried further. “Keep in mind that the individuals in question were prisoners to Shinra’s regime. That they were tortured, tormented and starved of human contact beyond any of your capabilities to comprehend. I am aware that this doesn't bring your loved ones back, and I'm not asking you to forgive them. But these two men are two of three that the company used to build their regime. Men that had no opportunity to understand or know normal lives, or as normal as you can get in this type of world. What  _ did  _ any of you do to ‘rise up’ before any of this happened? Where were you when it came to saving the world before the people who had suffered to protect you broke rank and took their recompense? Where-” Valentine broke off, seemed to collect himself. Focusing once again on Fuhito, his mouth formed a thin line. “Name your terms, or don't. Either way, be done with it.”

Before Fuhito could open his mouth, people started pushing forward behind him, discordant yells erupting from the crowd, asking for Sephiroth’s execution one way or another. On his right Elfé was looking at Shinra’s envoy with a neutral expression rivaling his, however on his left, Shears had turned around to face the other protesters while chanting loudly  _ ‘Off with their heads!’ _ with his gang repeating after him. It was only a matter of minutes before their posse was yelling the same phrase over and over again, and it surprised him somewhat to see Aerith join in with the rest of them. It was possibly due to the fact that Sephiroth had probably killed a family member or someone she held dear, and how mob mentality was affecting her considering her youth.   


Just as he was about to turn toward the impassive man on the other side of the gates, something hit the wall, the crash of glass against concrete and steel, and another round in quick succession that seemed to make the last of the Cetras flinch every time. When an explosive hit the ground a couple of feet away from the crimson-caped man, Aerith stopped yelling with the others and gasped. Valentine on the other hand, was the picture of calm, and while it seemed that something shifted inside those lifeless crimson eyes, it was too quick for Fuhito to name. Elfé raised a hand to quiet the crowd, shaking her head minutely at Shears to ask him to stop and back her up instead. Together they seemed to get the crowd under control, before the leader of the AVALANCHE spoke.

“Before you go and blame us, assume responsibility for what you’ve done.” She paused. “You wanted for cooperation, wanted for people to listen to you, and while we asked you for a means to earn people’s trust, you chose silence, and instead of gaining it, you’ve  ** _betrayed _ ** people’s  ** _trust_ ** . How does Shinra plan to regain it? By more betrayals?” Her words rang out loud and clear, and while the brunette had a penchant to hold onto the hilt of her sword as something to rely on whenever she had to do something outside of her comfort zone, she seemed to be trying to keep her hands at her side, fingers twitching once in a while in an attempt not to fidget restlessly. “You seem awfully sympathetic of these criminals, though the same can be said about your General, considering the history he shares with them. Is he unable to attend today again? Or Shinra has simply no other representative to send here? Is your new president just as much of a snot as the one before it?” At this people started yelling their agreement, and the infinitesimal flicker of pain over Valentine’s features at the mention of the General’s unavailability to attend morphed into an expression of revulsion.

“I'll say it once more.” He said flatly. “I'm not _ here  _ to give you  _ reasons.  _ I am here to hear your terms, and please keep in mind that I will have to consult with Administration before guaranteeing you anything. The only thing you did with our last meeting was yell ‘Referendum’ before stomping away like a ‘snot’ as you put it. We haven't heard from you since despite the fact that we live in the same city. I have no idea how you intend to negotiate anything when you're unwilling to even sit down for a professional conference...or at least without a hoard of screaming citizens. And instead of assuming I'm placing blame, perhaps you should consider the idea I'm choosing not to place blame or hate because, frankly, it's an entirely animalistic way to live.”   


Vincent Valentine was-Fuhito observed-a man with no particular loyalties. He was-obviously-a man with passions and proclivities...but they weren't affiliated with Shinra whatsoever. He wondered offhandedly what was keeping him there...if Administration had something held over his head or if he had personal attachments within the organization otherwise. It was too ridiculous to consider someone joining Shinra because they believed in their cause; especially considering what the company had done. Still, there was no hesitation or misgivings in his eyes in terms of his purpose... which told the bespectacled man that at the very least, he was telling the truth...though whether he truly was or if he truly _ believed _ he was remained to be seen. That aside, he was incredibly dangerous. Not in the sense of physical prowess, but in the sense of intelligence. Because everything he said had at least some form of tactical logic, and given enough time and the right training, he'd be a disastrous diplomatic threat.   


“I'm not a negotiator.” That slow voice continued. “I wasn't trained for it; I'm a former Turk...every decision we make is tactical, not flashy and flattering. And I think you would rather me tell you the truth than sugarcoat it behind apologies and reassurances. That being said, execution is not an option we are willing to consider. We don't believe that a life can pay for a life. Attempt to keep that in mind when placing your terms. And try to comprehend that we do live in a somewhat organized state of government, even if the people will not work with that government. My word isn't law, so any demands you make will need to be fielded to their respective parties before being passed through to the board in order to garner vote.”   


A slightly churlish expression twisted sanguine lips.   


“The  _ General  _ is the General of SOLDIER, in case you've forgotten. And while he has had a large part in reforming Shinra, his duties still lie primarily in battlefield combat, and despite evidence to the contrary HQ isn't looking to start a war. This isn't a war front or a war council. Regardless, in terms of decisions in his particular field, he still has to answer to the Director of SOLDIER, so I'm not sure why you’re not asking for Deusericus instead of Hewley. And despite the fact that we take your riots into consideration, we can't exactly predict when they will happen, and the President is attempting to upkeep a new system of government. This can't be abandoned at the drop of a hat, regulations don't work that way professionally.” A black brow winged upwards. “Name your terms.”

Fuhito could see now exactly how their previous rally had failed. A deafening silence had fallen over the majority of the crowd, and most notably, the leader of AVALANCHE seemed to have been outwitted. Elfé was speechless, her face totally devoid of expressions as the gears inside her head were probably turning on how to make something out of the utter failure her last words had brought their movement.   


They had to change tactics and fast, because it seemed while Valentine didn’t consider himself a negotiator, his calm and his succinct witty responses were at least enough to shush the otherwise enraged clamor, even if it was perhaps something superficial and momentary. The bespectacled scientist gave him that; this guy that claimed to be a former Turk was a great tactician. He had to, begrudgingly, acknowledge that by sending him, Shinra could keep winning every time they decided to riot.   


This was not going to work.

When the grey-caped brunette was about to open her mouth beside him, Fuhito held out a hand in order to take control of the situation that was rapidly falling through their grasp. “Mr. Valentine, I’m sure you understand the reason these citizens are angry, and they’re rightful in their rage. After the press conferences you’d held, people had started to trust Shinra to be clear about the decisions they’d make, to have them inform the populace before taking action, so I think it’s reasonable for them to feel alarmed as to why such an important matter had been undertaken without any prior announcements. In terms of governmental hierarchy...” He paused for a moment, his forefinger fixing the bridge of his glasses on his nose, as he observed the crimson-eyed individual before him. It was almost impossible to read him, frustratingly so; and to think that every emotion that passed over the man’s pale face could be a regulated one, or one that the former Turk wanted them to be privy to, was almost enough to make him lose his cool. However, he persevered and continued instead, just as calmly. “General Hewley is known for his kindness and his sense of honor, and to have someone on the inside who is as sympathetic to the people as he is to those inside the headquarters is a breeze of fresh air. Surely, you can understand…” There was a pause. “But I digress.” The scientist knew what he was about to utter could be taken advantage of, and probably alienate Elfé, Shears and Aerith from him a little, but just as Valentine had said, there was no reason to drag this on any longer; especially when they could probably settle everything inside a conference, or when they could break it beyond repair enough that it would lead to skirmish and slaughter. Regardless, it wasn’t a lie, and dithering would not get them anywhere. As far as Fuhito was concerned, none of these mattered to him except his endgame which was almost in place and about to be set into motion. “As the leaders of the AVALANCHE, and as the voice of the people we agree to your offer for a professional conference, if your proposal still stands. As for our terms…” And it was hard to keep the smirk that wanted to tug on his lips at bay. Keeping his expression neutral, he finally stated. “We’d like Shinra to hand Sephiroth over to us; as a show of goodwill and a means to regain people’s trust, until the government and the population can come to an agreement.” Quirking an eyebrow in a mirror gesture of their liaison, the scientist added. “Well?”

It was, he acknowledged, a good call.

Not because of the enraged shouts that arose because of his proclamation...no. But because of the blank look that settled across Vincent’s face. He had surprised him, that was good. What was  _ better,  _ was the fact that it was very clear that the crimson-eyed man at least had emotional attachments to the Demon of Wutai. What they could be, he didn’t know, but now he knew  _ something... _ and it could be of use. It took the ex-Turk longer to respond to his demands, his visage going from blank to considering in the blink of an eye. It was a false sense of contemplation, however...borne of a need to placate...to shield. Fuhito acknowledged that he was likely the only person who had noticed it; what with the shock and incredulity that had come with his request. To him, however, it was telling...so telling. And he wanted to push, to niggle at it...but doing so would only make their position precarious and he was walking on thin ice as it was. When Valentine spoke again, his voice was carefully neutral...his tone deadpan.   


“And your demands are final?”

He didn’t hesitate a single second.

“Yes.” He said firmly.

A slight jerk of a pale chin and the triumph in him rose further. Because now, _now _he had the upper hand.

“Very well.” Vincent replied dully. “I will relay your request to administration.” He hesitated, appeared to consider something before an almost cheerful expression settled over his visage. “Do you have any requirements?”

“No weapons, of course.” Fuhito said lazily. Those lips twitched slightly, and he acknowledged that that wasn’t quite as good of a sign...but the reasoning behind it was unclear. “You have until tomorrow, at sundown.”   


“Understood.” was the flat return. “Anything else?”

“I think that will be all.” The bespectacled man said blithely.   


Crimson eyes traveled to Elfé, as if uncertain if he should take Fuhito’s words at face value. This irritated him, because he couldn’t afford to have people questioning his leadership. In the end, however, the ebon-haired man nodded curtly.

“I will meet you here at the same time tomorrow then.” He said. “In the interests of the...volatility of the individual in question...I would recommend you didn’t bring such a crowd, but I doubt you would listen.”   


“We will try our best, but given that our conversation’s had an audience, I think you’d understand.” Fuhito answered rather dispassionately. “Until then.” A firm nod, before he looked toward Elfé, Shears and Aerith who were silent at his side. The man wearing a headscarf was almost a little indignant that he hadn’t gotten what he’d wanted, but the pair of green and blue eyes of the brunettes that were observing him were somewhat contemplative, as if trying to find answers they weren’t going to receive. Nor were they going to get any more words out of him. Crossing his hands over his chest, he gazed at the retreating crimson cape until it vanished behind the main entrance of the Shinra tower.   


Behind him, there was the commotion of people dispersing, and he couldn’t help but notice the weight of stares, gazes and glares that were headed his way every once in a while as Shears and the members of his gang tried disbanding the crowd. Once in a while a yell or a shout of something vulgar and off-color reached his ears, the noise of idiotic individuals squabbling over something that wasn’t even of importance at all, but they were all dimwits and the scientist didn’t care enough to pay them any heed or even acknowledge them at all.   


Turning around, the brilliant sphere of sun came into view, shrouded behind a thin veil of pollution and mako. Fuhito stared at it, the rays passing through his glasses, translucent Cornea, and Anterior Chamber alike, hitting his irises, and he didn’t need a mirror to know that his pupils had contracted; the focused column of light breached the Posterior chamber, through his lenses, and the Vitreous body to burn against his Retinas the image of the gaseous star that had been burning out there in space for eons. He stared at it until he could no more, until when he looked away, the aftereffects of it danced behind his closed eyelids like a purple ball.   


_ A day. _

It was almost laughable compared to the lives of the Planet and the sun. Life would go on without them, and the magnificence and extravagance of the human civilization would be lost to the ages as nature retook its course. It would be as though they had never been, and they never would be ever again.   


He’d do anything if it meant that he could save this planet, even if it meant giving up his...life.


	7. Chapter Six

He wondered if incarceration was simply a part of his life he couldn’t avoid.   


Staring up at the ceiling of the cell, Sephiroth attempted to tell himself that this wasn’t permanent...that this was a temporary necessity for a good cause. For the past several days, he’d been trying to tell himself this with little to no success. Because no matter which angle he looked at it, this was still imprisonment. He hated it, but there was also a part of him that was used to it...a part of him that breathed a quiet sigh of relief at the idea of four bare walls, nondescript clothes and no responsibilities. This didn’t help, because instead of hating his confinement he now hated himself for  _ liking  _ it. There was no denying-however-that life was  _ simpler  _ this way...that he didn’t have to worry about tomorrow this way because tomorrow was guaranteed to be the same as the day before. It was-admittedly-a very unhealthy outlook, but it was also the only outlook that was keeping him borderline sane. The alternative perspective was virulent panic and anxiety, and he couldn’t afford to lose his head here...there was too much that could go wrong.   


Across from him, Genesis was sitting on his cot staring at a copy of Loveless like it was going to come to life and try to kill him at any given moment. Sephiroth recognized it as one of the redhead’s personal volumes, and he acknowledged that at some point Angeal must have fetched it for him. He wasn’t exactly sure why the redhead’s childhood friend had thought that bringing a ghost of the former Commander’s past life to their cell was a good idea, but the General was too sick at the moment for him to force himself to get angry about it. Their days were spent in a comfortable sort of silence, each of them preoccupied with their own thoughts or concerns. They spoke idly over their meals which were-thankfully-much more substantial than they had been when they were last imprisoned. His companion left, sometimes for hours during the day, to participate in whatever tests the Science Division came up with at the time. These spaces of chronology were the hardest, because there was a part of him that was convinced that Genesis was going to stagger back covered head to toe in blood. Each time he didn’t, the irrational fear only increased, because an ingrained part of him was convinced that Hojo was still there...lurking in the dark sublevels. Genesis returned looking tired and disheartened, but not injured...and each time he did it became clearer and clearer that a cure wasn’t going to be an easy thing to find.   


They didn’t talk about it...not because they didn’t care, but because it wasn’t necessary. Both of them were painfully aware of how much suffering Angeal was going through, of how much a cure was needed...but at the end of the day there was just the two of them, and neither of them had the strength to make space for anything else. They dragged the cots together in the middle of the room at night; crawled into each other until it was sometimes impossible to tell whose arm was whose or whose leg was whose. They didn’t do anything sexual, mostly because the surveillance cameras around them were too jarring and neither of them were flagrant exhibitionists but also because they were simply too tired. Hours of worry...hours of sitting around waiting for the worst to happen was more draining than either of them had anticipated it would be. Neither of them liked being back in HQ, and while they were glad to be there together...it didn’t take away the fact that it was rather like walking into a nightmare. Sephiroth hadn’t had the opportunity to travel anywhere but the inside of his cell...so whatever repressed memories he had of the place hadn’t risen up to grab him from behind...but he knew it was only a matter of time.   


Walking into Headquarters had been entirely different.   


Staring at the towering, shimmering structure, Sephiroth had wanted to turn tail...to bring his wing forth and take flight until he couldn’t see Midgar anymore. Somewhere in that glittering metal construct was the apartment he’d once occupied...the space he had made his own...however poorly. Somewhere there was the VR room where he had sparred so many times...where he had gotten to know the two men who had become some part of his life. The labs were there; shadowed and dark and haunted with the whispers of his blood...the screams of a child who had never known love or comfort. Somewhere there was the balcony where he and Genesis had agreed to begin their relationship...looking out over glowing reactors as the wind carried their voices away. Somewhere there were the former redhead’s quarters...inundated with red...empty and echoing. So many ghosts...so many memories and when Vincent had grabbed his hand it took everything he had to keep his limp...to not clutch it like a frightened child seeking comfort.   


And then they learned about the clones.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Sephiroth leaned against the cold metal wall and drew his knees up ‘till he could wrap his arms around them. He knew what it was like to be so focused on something you loved that everything else paled in comparison. He also knew what it was like to fear loss...to experience loss. Logically, Vincent had had every right to forego such information in favor of urgency, but it didn’t excuse the pain it had caused him...caused  _ them.  _ He wished he could be more forgiving, but he was angry. More virulent than his anger was his sense of betrayal, and that rankled him because it indicated that he’d grown attached to his sire without really meaning to. Lowering his head, the green-eyed man sucked in his breath before letting it out in a shaky exhale. He didn’t know when it had happened...when he’d stopped looking at Vincent as an acquaintance and more as what he was...his father. There was a part of him that hated the concept with every bone in his body because he had never  _ wanted  _ parents before. He wasn’t entirely sure that he wanted them now...but his mind was inundated with the memory of how Vincent had promised him unconditional love while he was lying on the floor shaking from ketamine withdrawal. How his quiet, steady presence was calming...not abhorrent.   


He’d sworn that he would never let himself get so close to someone that they could hurt him. Genesis had-of course-shattered that concept so thoroughly it had nearly left him in pieces. Vincent was entirely different, because their relationship was entirely different. He wanted to let it go-automatically-because there was a frightened little boy inside of him that insisted he  _ needed  _ his father; that it didn’t matter how much he hurt him because he needed him. The adult in him insisted that he couldn’t think this way...and it was right. Because even if he was willing to overlook things for the sake of himself, he was not willing to do it for Genesis. Genesis deserved the truth, possibly more than he did...because the copies were direct replicas of his likeness. He was aware of how dangerous this could be for the older man, because if the replicas did something negative, he would automatically be blamed by the populace. No, he couldn’t condone it, because there was too much to lose in terms of his partner’s honor...his integrity. And while both were somewhat antiquated concepts; borne from a past that they didn’t really have a place in anymore...it was still important.

Someone knocked on the cell door.   


Against his will, Sephiroth jumped...his head shooting up in time to see Genesis drop the copy of Loveless and stare wildly at the entrance. This too was common, because both of them were now habitually hardwired to anticipate terrible threat. Through the haze of instinctual panic, he acknowledged that it had to either be Angeal or Vincent; because nobody else bothered to knock before entering. In some ways, he wished they just  _ wouldn’t.  _ Because it was easier to deal with the door slamming open than the quiet, polite raps that were-in his opinion-far more threatening than anything sudden or blatantly uncaring of their mental and physical well-being. It was easier to think that the entire world didn’t give a damn about them than it was to wonder what underhanded things people might be up to because they were knocking so nicely. Watching as the entryway was revealed to him, he pushed down the automatic twinge of anger, hurt, and irritation when it became clear his father was their visitor. Vincent glanced at Genesis, who threw him a frankly filthy look before snatching his book back up and burying his face in it as if the pages might just swallow him alive if he tried hard enough. Crimson eyes then swept to him, and Sephiroth kept his expression neutral...hiding any indication of possible emotion behind a taciturn mask. When neither of them greeted him, the older man cleared his throat.

“We should talk.”   


This was said to Sephiroth, but he had the sense that he was speaking to both of them. And the silver-haired ex-soldier wanted to throw something, because of  _ course  _ Vincent wanted to talk. That didn’t mean, however, that he was going to make it easy on him. Genesis’ ears had gone somewhat red-what little he could see of them over the book anyway-and he imagined that the former Commander was rather similarly minded. Keeping up his show of nonchalance, he leaned against the cell wall and raised an eyebrow.   


“So talk” he said flatly.

The ex-Turk seemed to dither for a moment before he closed the cell door, propping himself up against it as he did so. Looking down, the gunslinger appeared to gather his thoughts before speaking.

“I’m sorry” he said bluntly. When no response was forthcoming, he continued. “I should have told both of you, right away...but I was preoccupied worrying about Angeal. It’s not an excuse; I love him...but I should have been able to think past all of that in order to remember what was important.” He tilted his head. “I just want to make it clear that I wasn’t-that I wasn’t  _ hiding  _ it from you because I thought you wouldn’t be able to handle it. I think saying that I  _ forgot  _ is somewhat worse, but it’s the truth...and I won’t lie to either of you.”

There was a sharp  ** _*thump* _ ** as Genesis threw Loveless down and glared at Vincent like he very much wished he’d just burst into flames. Sephiroth settled for a derisive snort.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” he asked coolly. “That you conveniently  _ forgot  _ what the last clone did to me? What Shinra did to me?”   


“No” Vincent replied heavily. “And it was wrong, horribly wrong. I swore when I returned to all this that I wasn’t going to overlook things anymore, that I wasn’t going to turn a blind eye because of my emotional attachments, but I did.” Ebon-colored locks swung as his father shook his head. “I overlooked you,  _ again.  _ And I think I’ve always been overlooking you a little bit, because you’ve been reaching out and I keep meeting you with...nothing.”   


The statement hurt; because it was true...but it was also a little bit unfair. Because Vincent had made a sincere effort to reach him...especially when they were first on Funaraoi. He was also under the impression that the older man had went out of his way to speak to Genesis as well...but the redhead had never spoken about it, and he didn’t want to press the issue. Neither of them were emotionally giving, and he’d never wanted to push for something he couldn’t give in return, but maybe he should have. Maybe this would have prevented the litany of misunderstandings that seemed to follow them.   


“You’ve had…” Sephiroth swallowed.  _ “...A lot  _ of opportunities to act, and you didn’t.”

This was also something they had never discussed, a subject they had never breached. Neither of them had addressed the issue of Vincent’s initial egress...of the fact he’d chosen to hide instead of caring for his infant son. There was the rustle of fabric, and when Sephiroth looked up again, Vincent was kneeling in front of him, his head tilted upwards. His father’s face was as blank as his own, but those crimson eyes were filled with sadness...with regret.

“I abandoned you” Vincent said dully, and it was hard to ignore the grief that suffused his words. “I left you and I didn’t look back, because I was a coward.” The former Turk appeared to struggle with himself. “There’s  _ no excuse,  _ for a parent walking away from a child...there’s nothing I can do to make up for that. And it tortures me,  _ every day,  _ to think of you lying somewhere cold and sterile with no one to hold you when you cried, no one to give you love, no one to tell you you were  _ important-”  _ the older man’s voice cracked and Sephiroth had to look away, had to angle his body away because if he didn’t, he was going to  _ break.  _ He was going to scream and rail and cry because Vincent was telling him everything he had  _ wanted  _ to hear...everything he had so longed for before he’d given up on receiving it. When his sire spoke again, he sounded somewhat more collected. “I love you, Sephiroth. You’re my son, nothing is going to change that.” There was the sensation of a small movement, and he sensed rather than saw that the gunslinger was speaking to Genesis. “I’m not excluding you from this, I am equally culpable for not telling you.”

Sephiroth didn’t speak, because if he did speak he was fairly sure he was going to shatter into a million pieces. He was _afraid _of this...afraid of love on a parental scale because every authoritative figure he had ever met had made sure to beat their hatred into him until he hated himself so thoroughly he didn’t know how to look at it any other way. He also acknowledged that this wasn’t entirely his battle, and he wasn’t willing to give up the ghost if Genesis wasn’t ready to. His priority was Genesis...would always be Genesis...and he couldn’t split himself between two people...he wouldn’t. He didn’t have the emotional energy or the emotional capacity for that...and he automatically knew that the redhead meant far more to him than his father ever would.   


“I know it’ll take time for us to get past this, and I accept that” Vincent continued, standing as he did so. The older man retreated somewhat to sink down cross legged between the two cots, glancing at Genesis as he did so. “But I want you to know if there’s anything I can do to make up for it, I’m willing to.”

Genesis was still glaring at Vincent, his hands that had been bunching up the sheets before were now wringing the spine of his once prized book as though by doing so the meaning behind all those cryptic verses would come pouring from in between the glossy papers. Angry blue eyes darted to him, lingering enough for Sephiroth to realize the rage inside them wasn’t directed at him but more at the man who was sitting down between their cots. There was also something else, some sort of reluctance that wasn’t characteristic of his lover, but the silver-haired man didn’t, couldn’t understand the reason behind it.   


Beside the occasional creaking of the hardcover of Loveless, the silence around them hung heavy, suffused with irritation and anger on his partner’s side of the room and... The former General didn’t really want to compartmentalize his feelings at the moment, especially not in the presence of the individual who was the source of said roiling emotions. It seemed none of them were too keen to break the quiet for the long agonizing minutes that the dark sea rose up inside him. That was until the fiery ex-First decided that he was probably fed up, slammed the book into the cot, and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Have you realized that whenever you and Angeal are around, my relationship with Sephiroth turns to shit?” A tilt of an auburn head. “Let me reword my question.” The sarcastic tone continued. “Have you realized that your presences fucks with one of us every time, and that subsequently fucks the whole relationship? Why do you think is that Vincent?” Standing up from where he’d been sitting, his lover plucked Loveless and waved it in the air, pursing his lips before throwing it to the ground in front of his sire’s feet. “This is why. And I don’t say that you didn’t try, maybe you did and we didn’t welcome it, but have you really stopped to think about how much you know about your son?” Throwing his hands up in the air, Genesis turned around, mumbling unintelligibly under his breath before whipping around to face Sephiroth’s father. “I know this is probably  _ family _ business, but when you decided to talk to Sephiroth about it in front of me, you gave me permission to intrude.” Azure eyes looked up at him, something terrible troubling those beautiful depths. “And I’m sorry Seph, but I can’t sit around and listen to him apologize all the time, because guilt can only get you so far.” The silver-haired man wasn’t sure if his sire could pick up on the sadness that streaked the former Commander’s words.

Sephiroth couldn’t bring himself to get angry on his father’s behalf about what the redhead was saying. Mostly because it was true, but also because he didn’t have the energy. It was true that Angeal and Vincent often seemed to be harbingers of doom whenever they were around them, but it was equally true that he and Genesis might not have a relationship at all if they hadn’t gotten involved. He didn’t like to think what might have happened if they’d never been imprisoned, if they’d never had the opportunity to form a mental bridge. He’d weathered the majority of the redhead’s rage on a psychic level...but there was a good possibility that they might never have reconciled in a physical setting.   


It was also very clear that despite everything, Angeal and Vincent were doing their damnedest to protect them. Because otherwise they’d be facing a populace and an Administration who wouldn’t blink an eye at seeing them dead. And maybe they’d have been able to fend them off...but at what cost? How many more lives would they have had to have taken before the resistance against them died down? Before they were left in peace? And how would so much death...so much blood on their hands affect them mentally? And how many  _ years  _ would it have taken before they could stop looking over their shoulders for people who wanted to assassinate them? Would they ever have been given an opportunity to heal? He was angry at Vincent, yes; for forgetting. But he was also  _ grateful  _ to Vincent for putting them in a place where they weren’t required to be murderers or fugitives to survive. Granted, it was at the price of their independence, and he knew how much that meant to Genesis.   


“I know this isn’t easy” Vincent said flatly, and the silver-haired man jerked himself from his thoughts in order to listen. “And you’re right, apologies only get people so far...but not saying anything is worse; and I’ve learned the consequences of inaction to too extreme a degree to not make my regret clear. I don’t expect you-either of you-to forgive me overnight...or anytime soon. And I’m  _ grateful  _ that you chose to come here to help Angeal, and that you’ve continued to despite this. But I’m deeply aware of the consequences of leaving things unsaid until it’s too late…” crimson eyes cut to Sephiroth. “...Of leaving people behind until it’s too late. I won’t make that mistake again. I chose to involve both of you, because the clones involve both of you. For me to take Sephiroth aside and talk about something that is-essentially-a direct copy of you would be insulting your relationship...of disregarding your right to hear this as much as he has a right. And you’ll forgive me for saying this-or not-but Genesis, I respect you far too much to exclude you.”   


“If you  _ respect  _ him so much, you could have at least have had the decency to tell him about the clones” Sephiroth snapped before he could help himself.   


Vincent closed his eyes and appeared to take a deep, steadying breath.

“And I  _ told  _ you, that hiding the clones from you wasn’t so much an act of concealment as it was an act of hysteria. It was careless, ignorant even, but there’s nothing I can do to change that now.” He hesitated before continuing. “There’s also been a...development, and I think both of you might want to be involved in the decision.”   


Genesis’ hands had risen to his head, fingers tangled in the fiery strands as he and his father continued their spat, and it only now occurred to Sephiroth how tense the redhead was under the almost baggy garments they were given to wear. Really, tension was wafting off him in waves and suffusing the air around him enough that it was almost visible in its translucency. He was again muttering under his breath, repeating a vowel over and over. “I… I… I…” A pause as his voice became coherent enough to be understood. “You’re not even listening to what I’m saying.” The redhead hissed quietly, furiously. “How can you be so  _ fucking _ Selfish?!” And now he was shouting at the top of his lungs. “You keep talking about forgiveness, about being grateful, about respect, love and care my ass. All you do is  _ talk _ . Why don’t you try and  _ do _ something for a change?” Another pause, a huff of angry breath. “And don’t tell me you have, because if you did, you’d know then that your son cares as much about words as he does for actions.”

Blue eyes that had chanced a glance at him quickly looked away when they found him gazing at the scarlet-haired ex-soldier who was defending him. And it was weird because Sephiroth hadn’t even asked for it, and to think that he’d need defending from his own father was somewhat ridiculous. Also, it could be the fact that his lover thought he needed someone to stand up on his behalf, someone who’d claim what had been his birth right and had been denied from him from the very beginning. Furthermore, the way it was affecting his partner, how involved in it he seemed to be was odd and unprecedented.   


“There's not anything you can do” Sephiroth deadpanned, turning his attention to his sire. “But...I understand what you're saying. I'm just not in a place where I want to work on this yet.”   


“Thank you” Vincent said heavily. “For understanding, at least.” He shifted and glanced at Genesis; a resigned, saddened look ghosting over his visage before he slumped further. “And now I'm afraid I must ask even more from you.” When the younger man merely raised silver brows, he scrubbed a hand over his face. “The public knows you’re here.” 

Sephiroth stiffened even as all the color drained out of Genesis’ face. Because this was  _ exactly  _ what they’d been so afraid of...what they’d worried about.   


“And how do they know?” the former General asked tightly.

His sire shifted wearily before shaking his head.

“If I had to speculate-which I won’t-I’d guess that it was one of the techs. You haven’t been around any of the men, and none of the staff know you’re here. It’s impossible to tell who it could have been...or their motivations.” A black leather-clad hand rubbed absentmindedly over the gold plate of the opposite arm. “We’ve been dealing with a group called AVALANCHE that wants Shinra to take down the reactors on the behalf of the planet. Administration was working on doing that beforehand, but the size of their numbers and their aggressiveness forced us to push harder to avoid an uprising. Now that they know you’re here, they think Shinra has betrayed them...they’re out for blood. I’ve been standing in as a...negotiator, though I’m not exactly sure why Angeal thought I was up for the job, I seem to do a spectacular job of making them angry.”

“And what do they want?” Sephiroth pressed.   


Crimson eyes lifted slowly, almost reluctantly, to look at him...and the feeling of dread magnified tenfold.   


“They want you” Vincent whispered. “Specifically, they want Shinra to hand you over to them, as a sort of...safety net.”   


It took everything he had not to call on the corrupt Lifestream and disappear. He felt himself pale, heard the soft hiss of breath through his teeth as if it was from far away.

“And why” he murmured dangerously. “Would Shinra  _ ever  _ think I would work with them?”   


“Because Shinra isn’t willing to keep you safe at the cost of so many lives” his father said thinly. “And I know realistically you could defend yourself, that you could fight them...but I don’t think you want to do that, I don’t think you want to kill anymore just for the sake of protecting yourself.”   


He was right.

Seething, Sephiroth realized that he  _ hated  _ that he was right...but Vincent was correct. He didn’t mind killing every sorry soul that got in his way, but he couldn’t condone asking Genesis to do the same. And, realistically, the idea of being a murderer didn’t appeal to him anymore...not because of the concept of taking lives, but because he was  _ tired  _ of war...tired of standing on battlefront after battlefront with nothing to gain. There was-admittedly-a part of him that lusted after death...that reveled in blood...and that part of him hissed that he could simply kill every pathetic, weak-minded individual on this planet and it wouldn’t cause him to lose any sleep, but the humanistic part of him knew that eventually it would catch up to him...just like his mindless slaughter in Junon had caught up to him. The laugh that spilled from his lips was so ugly his father flinched away from it.   


“And so this is how Shinra plays their endgame” he said dully. “By using me again. By giving me a choice I cannot refute again.”   


“You can refute it” Vincent said weakly, and he looked derisively at him. The answering smile he received was sad. “Angeal and I would both die defending you, both of you. And if you would choose to go back to Funaraoi, we would defend your choice to the end.”

There was an unspoken truth there, and all three of them knew it.

There was the truth that if Genesis and Sephiroth returned to Funaraoi then Vincent and Angeal would suffer horrific consequences for siding with them. There was also the possibility they might not be allowed to leave at all; that they would have to fight their way out. And while himself, his lover, and his father could do it...Angeal might not survive it. If-by miraculous happenstance-they managed to return, they would never have peace. Shinra would pursue them...all of them, and if Shinra didn’t, AVALANCHE would, the people would. Without the General and the former Turk to keep things in balance, the company would likely fall if they didn’t side with the people. They would constantly be on the run...constantly watching their backs. Angeal’s dream of a free people would be nothing but a mindless uprising of constant carnage. The death toll would be monstrous in of itself.   


“It’s not really a choice, is it?” Sephiroth said numbly, looking across at his redheaded partner. Genesis still pretty much looked like a ghost, or maybe a vampire because the way his eyes were looking at Vincent promised death and bloodshed. He knew that his lover was easy to anger, and that fury always needed an outlet. Unfortunately, his father seemed to be the perfect choice at the moment for the fiery-haired ex-First to bring out his rage upon at the moment. The rest of his partner’s face however didn’t seem to know what kind of expression they wanted to settle into. One moment, it was terrible dread, then hatred, contempt, and also guilt. And the former General wanted to breach the heavy wall of silence that separated them, to pry those hands open as they rose to cover the older man’s face, to stop him from descending into the well of self-loathing and negativity that usually opened up inside the redhead. To comfort him somehow, but he wasn’t sure if it wouldn’t end up with him being flung to the nearest wall. These things were usually 50-50 with the blue-eyed ex-soldier.

So when Genesis laughed, it was an echo of his own, ugly, bitter and worse than seeing those cerulean lakes spill over copper wreathed lids. Maybe not, but it was such a heart-wrenching sound, and the gorgeous face that was a mask of anguish and pain didn’t make it any better. “And you say decision, but you lie again.” The redhead wasn’t hiding the malice in his voice at all, a grimace marring his visage before he continued, flames of determination dancing in his eyes as they settled on the crimson-caped figure between them. “I won’t let you hand Sephiroth over like that.” A pause, and his lover raised his head, meeting his beryl gaze head on. “If you’re going, I’m going too.” Turning to his father, the former Commander continued. “And it’s non-negotiable. And if I have to kill half your personnel to force Administration to agree to my terms then so be it.” Those azure eyes darted back to his. “And if you want to go back to our home, even if we had to kill half of the planet and run away…” Something flickered in those brilliant irises before they were veiled by creamy lids, and then by tresses the hue of fire as Genesis looked away, the intermission yawning between them with the sigh that passed those pale lips, before he continued. “I will go with you. Even if it means no rest and no reprieve from Shinra and people, even if it means being murderers and fugitives for the rest of our lives. Even if we’re both bone-deep tired of fighting I will go with you.” And his voice almost dropped to a whisper as he added. “Unlike you.”

A part of Sephiroth understood where his partner was coming from. Because he was familiar with that kind of anger; it still burned deep within him. His dislike for humanity was no less than it had been when he razed Junon to the ground...but he also understood a need for temperance. There were only so many people you could kill...so many  _ innocents  _ you could kill before it began to haunt you...and he knew that he was far past that limit. There were nights when he could barely keep himself from waking up screaming, from seeing the haunted eyes of children he had slaughtered in his sleep, begging him him for mercy. Genesis had killed people in Deepground, but he’d never killed infants, he’d never killed the young or the guileless. And he knew it would make him angry if he said it out loud...if he announced he was unwilling to let the redhead take that last step. The older man would insist that he didn’t need protecting, but this wasn’t about protection. This was about saving his partner’s soul. Sephiroth didn’t look at his father when he spoke...he kept his eyes locked on his partner.

“I accept your terms, but know this; if I feel that the threat is too great...if I think there’s any possibility of this becoming something that would threaten my peace...I won’t hesitate to kill every single soul that decides to stand in my way. And you know I can do it. I don’t care about humanity, and I don’t care about Shinra. I  _ barely  _ care about you and Angeal. The only person in the entire world I would risk life and limb for is over there, and I’ll do anything to keep him safe...bar none…and he would do the same.” Against his will, he felt his lips curve into a cruel smirk. “Know this, too; I intend to have  _ fun  _ with this, and I intend to make AVALANCHE  _ miserable  _ for wasting my time.” When Vincent made a noise, possibly as if to protest, he sneered. “Don’t worry, I won’t  _ squander  _ your pathetic efforts at peace...but I will make them  _ sorry  _ they ever asked for me.”

It was Genesis who breached the gap between them while his father took several moments to contemplate his words; possibly regretting that he had come to them with the decision, and if his words were to be taken veritably, he could very much possibly be thinking along the lines of what his lover had offered in terms of throwing everything away and siding with them. That was an illogical vein of thought however, and speculating over what the crimson-eyed ex-Turk was thinking was just as fruitless as it would be for the aforementioned man to try and decipher what was going on inside Sephiroth’s head. The realization of it paled when his partner’s hand settled at the small of his back, long fingers bunching up his shirt enough that the garment was wound tight around his abdomen. It was a gesture of many things at the same time, as emotions and expressions weren’t that easy to construe and decode with his redheaded lover. It could have been the anger that was just lurking underneath the pale skin, the desire to seek comfort even if it was just being close to each other like at nights; or maybe it was to show his father the inseparability of their bond, that they’d follow each other wherever the other went, even if it was down to the ground. And it was all ironic, thinking about this. Because if it was anger, then it was a herald of another argument and his sire had succeeded in making them fight yet again. And the silver-haired man didn’t want to think that it had taken him less than two months the last time to follow Genesis to death, even though they both returned from it.

“Well?” The redhead queried. “Both or none, make your choice, or choices in case you need board meetings for this, whatever.” A nonchalant wave of hand, as his lover looked to the side, letting out an impatient huff.

Crimson eyes held them in thrall for a moment, and it seemed that Vincent almost looked...triumphant?...before the impression quickly bled into neutrality. Rising, the gunslinger nodded and began to pace towards the exit.   


“The meeting with Administration will take place in an hour, Angeal will be down to walk with the two of you.” He hesitated a moment, seeming to want to say something more, before he apparently thought better of it. “Until then.”   


There was a harsh **_*clang*_** as the door slid shut.   


Sephiroth knew better than to move. He wasn’t entirely sure if he should  _ breathe  _ because he was having a lot of trouble reading Genesis, and that usually meant he was angry. He didn’t want to risk attracting more of his ire by turning or-Gaia forbid- _ shifting.  _ The minute his father left the body next to him had filled with tension...it radiated off him in waves and he could only hope that whatever was coming...they’d survive it. That being said, he was going to have his say, because he was  _ sick  _ of people assuming that he either only wanted the worst...or that he didn’t know what he wanted...or that he was incapable of making positive decisions...and he was even more sick of people getting angry at him for no good reason at all. Opening his mouth, he resigned himself to his doom.   


“‘Unlike you’” he echoed bitterly. “So we’re reverting to the past now, are we? Because if so, you should know there’s a reason I won’t go back to Funaraoi with you.” He took a deep breath. “...It’s because if I do, and if I choose to kill those who would come to challenge us...I might not come out with my sanity intact. There’s a part of me, and I don’t know how powerful that part is, that  _ wants  _ to kill people.” When a slight jerk of the hand at his back indicated the redhead might speak, he raised a palm...silently acknowledged that what he was about to say was very damaging, before saying it anyway. “That part of me doesn’t love you, Genesis. It doesn’t love anyone...it’s incapable of it. That part of me is fully capable of doing what I did before...it’s mindless and I don’t have any control over it. And while I’m willing to let it out should the worst happen, I am also going to do everything in my power to  _ prevent  _ it. Because once it surfaces, there’s no going back. And I don’t particularly know why you’re so angry at me for choosing not to be a mindless killing machine but I’d really like to hear it.”   


The hand at his back retreated almost immediately, coming up to his partner’s chest and as Genesis turned his back on him, he could see the other hand being raised to hold it as though the limb had been burnt. There was the rustle of fabric as his partner seemed to rub his forearm while he walked away from him, still not facing him.   


Again, the sense that there was a thick wall hanging between them, made of tension, of bitter words and oppressive noiselessness as his lover’s silence dragged on. And it was so unlike Genesis because he’d usually explode, but he wouldn’t be quiet, never quiet.

An auburn head hung, the hand that had been on the small of his back falling to the redhead’s side, and the hint of bare fingers visible just next to the elbow as the older man held his side, as though holding on to himself, hugging himself.   


“I don’t want to be in this room with you any more.”   


Sephiroth could understand it, he really could. Because what he was saying was indelibly painful, but he could  _ not  _ make it clearer that this was the only path that he was willing to follow…how  _ dangerous  _ the alternative was for them. And he couldn’t do this if they were constantly playing this tug-of-war with each other, if they were constantly spitting vitriol at each other. It was lonely to be ostentatiously different, and he was not going to ask Genesis to embrace that difference at the cost of so much. There was far, far too much at stake here for him to be benevolent...for him to look the other way and tell himself that everything was going to be alright. Because it was a lie.   


“I’m not going to beg you to stay” he said stiffly. “And you don’t have to come with me. Nobody’s forcing you to do anything. The people aren’t asking for you, they’re asking for me.” He was abruptly incredibly weary. “I know what I said isn’t positive...and it’s not kind...but it’s realistic.” Green eyes narrowed contemplatively. “If...something happens and I do-” he broke off...realized that if he  _ did  _ someone would need to be there to neutralize him...and he couldn’t ask Genesis to do that. Panic suffused him, because despite all this, there was always the  _ what if.  _ “I need to talk to-!” ..Who? Who would be willing to do it that could? His partner was looking incredulously at him, and he could understand...because by all appearances he was going entirely insane...but this was  _ important  _ because as much as he wanted the redhead to understand him, he also needed to make sure that there was going to be someone there to  _ take him out  _ if he lost his mind. And while the idea of killing the populace wasn’t exactly unappealing, killing  _ Genesis  _ was very unappealing. “-Veld” he said grimly.

A weary look passed over the redhead’s features, quickly falling away to be replaced by his stubborn determination. Pale fingers clenched and unclenched before the scarlet-haired ex-soldier seemed to decide what he wanted to do. And it was to put one foot ahead of another to close their distance, which had Sephiroth backing away a half step and to warn him to stop, which his lover decided not to heed. Azure eyes were locked into his, and the shadow of darkness that fleeted over them was both at the same time unfamiliar, and yet the silver-haired man was  _ intimate _ with it on a level that had him stepping backwards until his back hit the wall. And it wasn’t out of a fear for himself, but for the older man who didn’t seem to care about what he was capable of.   


“You.” A hand pushed against his chest, and there was nothing gentle about it at all as his shoulder blades hit the cold metal. A snarl bubbled up his throat but he reigned it in, observed those blue irises as he felt his own ice over while the same offending hand rose up to the base of his throat and stayed there. “I’ve seen that part of you, the darkness lurking behind your eyes.” A sneer as an auburn head tilted. “I’ve been  _ intimate  _ with it, so what are you trying to frighten me of?” When his lover’s other hand rose, Sephiroth had expected it to strike him, to punch him, and it wouldn’t have surprised him at all, but when it reached for his hair, twisted the locks around a fist, enough for the tug to be slightly painful, he froze with confusion, silver eyebrows furrowing. But Genesis was still continuing, drawing ever nearer that he could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over his chin. “And you lie, but I guess I shouldn’t expect any better when you lie...even to yourself. And I don’t want you to beg, but you insult me with how you view my feelings for you.” The grip in his hair became vice-like. “You  _ hurt  _ me even when you’re sane by pushing me away, when all I’m doing is reaching out to you. And I hate you, but I hate myself even more because I can’t stop loving you.”

“How is this reaching out to me?!” Sephiroth spat, jerking his head fruitlessly to wrest himself from his lover’s grip. “How is you getting angry at everything I do  _ reaching out?!”  _ He attempted to regain some distance, to pull away...but a part of him wasn’t willing to push too hard...wasn’t willing to fight the individual before him. “Sometimes” he snarled. “I wish you’d just  _ talk  _ to me instead of-” he didn’t get to finish, because those long fingers yanked and what he was saying ended up backending as a sort of indignant yelp. “This isn’t about frightening you” the younger man spat. “It’s about making you understand-!”   


The grief that rose up to overcome him was sudden and entirely overwhelming. Because he didn’t know where it  _ came  _ from when seconds ago he’d been furious. Sephiroth felt his lip twitch downward-just slightly-on the left side and he was horrified because obviously he was just going absolutely crazy. The analytical part of him-what was left of it anyway-whispered that he was suffering some sort of anxious breakdown. From Vincent saying the things he’d said when his actions spoke otherwise...from acknowledging that maybe he had too many attachments despite the fact that he’d never really wanted any. From the knowledge that he was being used...again, and he didn’t have a way out of it. From the reality that he might have been able to avoid this situation entirely if he’d stayed behind when the gunslinger had asked Genesis to come to HQ. From being  _ back  _ at HQ, from repressing the hundreds of terrible memories that came with it. From listening to the echoes of his past self behind poorly constructed walls… From trying to understand that his sire was prioritizing his comrade over him...that he  _ had  _ prioritized Angeal over him and he didn’t know how to handle it. From the knowledge that despite the fact that he and Genesis had come here together, there was still this anger between them...this resentment. From the fear that once he  _ did  _ go with AVALANCHE he wouldn’t be able to control his emotions on the outside. From the fear that he was irreparably broken because of his past and he was never going to be able to give as much as he had received.   


The culmination of it was a maelstrom that turned him upside-down...tore him apart from the inside out and left him shattered and confused. And he was aware that he’d gone still, that he’d turned his face away so his bangs shadowed his visage. He was shaking, though not out of fear of Genesis...or really fear of himself-though that was a component-but out of a fear that he would never stop being  _ used,  _ that he was never going to know peace and by proxy he was never going to be able to give his partner peace. Because it seemed like no matter what, he was constantly forcing the older man to worry about him, to defend him, or to get angry at him and what kind of relationship was that? He drew in a ragged breath-couldn’t catch it-drew in another, and then another and it seemed like no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs, couldn’t see past the spiraling pinpoint that was his own mentality. And he  _ wished  _ he could communicate that to Genesis, communicate that he wasn’t  _ angry  _ he was  _ frightened  _ and he was  _ ashamed  _ of being frightened. He felt his eyes grow hot at the thought of shame...of humiliation because that was all he’d ever known, all Shinra had ever subjected him to and now they were doing it again. This only worsened his panic because crying wasn’t going to help things here, falling apart wasn’t going to help things here and subsequently trying to prevent that only exacerbated everything else. It took him a moment to realize that he was hyperventilating, that the fingers in his hair had loosened somewhat but he was too deep into it to really pull himself out. And he hated himself for it, for not being able to accept the burden of servitude like he had before...because that was what he was being asked to do...serve.   


_ “...Look at what a good dog he is…” _

“Genesis!” he gasped.   


The hand that was at the base of his neck had risen up to cradle the side of his visage that was facing away from the aforementioned redhead, and the fingers that were tangled in his hair weren’t there anymore, instead they were brushing his bangs away, drawing soothing patterns over his temple. Genesis’ body was pressing against his and pushing him against the wall, as though trying to trap him in their tangle of limbs so he wouldn’t just float away. Warm lips were mouthing against his jaw, feather-light but there nonetheless. “Easy… Sephiroth, breathe…” And that was what he was trying to do but it wasn’t working. And the blue-eyed individual waited for him, timing his breaths with him, just as loud, just as fast. “I love you. There’s no need to be afraid of it.” His lover’s voice was wavering as he spoke, soft auburn locks brushing against where fingertips had been brushing just shy of his hairline. “I’ll be there even if you succumb to it. I’ll bring you back, or we’ll fall together, do you understand me?” A forehead pressed against his temple, the former Commander’s voice too low for anyone else to hear, the steadying ingress and egress of air, hot against the hollow under his ear as the tip of a pale nose nuzzled his cheek. “I love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

It took him longer to come down from it.   


Not because he didn’t want to, but because the sense of panic that suffused him was a little bit like an out of body experience; like he was looking at himself from far away and he didn't know how to come back...circling around the room like an aimless hysterical phantom. It was touch that grounded him...let him focus on his physicality rather than his emotionalism. And it was a little bit like breaking the surface of dark water, of lifting his lips above an endless ocean to breathe. With cognizance came further embarrassment, because he didn’t  _ mean  _ to do this. Didn’t mean to make it so much about him when it was about both of them. Gritting his teeth, he tried to duck his head...narrowed his eyes and attempted to jerk away but the redhead didn’t let him. Kept his gaze focused forward...looking into sapphire irises that always seemed to offer him the universe when he had so little to give in return. His lip twitched again but he reigned it in...yanked it back and tried to bury it somewhere where it wasn’t going to affect them so much...where he could examine it later in a more clinical manner. Squeezing his eyes shut, he attempted to put himself in a somewhat tolerable frame of consciousness. With shaking fingers, he reached up to grasp the older man’s elbow.   


“M’” Sephiroth swallowed roughly. “I’m sorry” he rasped. Exhaustion slammed into him and he despaired at it because they still had the conference to attend...still had AVALANCHE to contend with...still had to  _ bow-  _ “I’m not-” he struggled with himself. “-Not a  _ tool.  _ I don’t want to be a-” his mind jumped elsewhere. “I love you” he said desperately. “I just don’t know how to  _ do this. _ ”

There was the flutter of fiery hued tresses against his face as Genesis ducked his head, and soon those fingers were bunching up his shirt at his sides, a forehead digging into his shoulder. Slowly, tentatively, he wrapped an arm around the frame inside his embrace, and the redhead flinched but didn’t move away. They stood there, and Sephiroth very much wanted to slide down the wall, but the way they were holding and leaning on each other made it almost impossible. “We...” The scarlet-haired man whispered before trailing off. “You’re not a tool, Sephiroth. You were never a tool. You’re a person, an individual, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, not even yourself.”   


Those hands let go, and when his lover withdrew, the former General had to plant his feet firmly not to succumb to the urge he’d been accosted with minutes ago. The blue-eyed ex-First didn’t raise his head to meet him, turned around and walked away, reaching down to retrieve his past self’s prized book from the floor. And as the younger man followed him around the room with his irises, the ex-Commander didn’t say anything, sat down on his cot with his back to him. It seemed that nothing was forthcoming from those rubicund lips that had soothed him minutes ago, and when his former comrade lied down on his side, drew his legs up to curl into a fetal pose Sephiroth didn’t know what to do or say. He didn’t even know if Genesis was going to continue, and he didn’t want to startle him, cut him off or make this more about himself than what he’d already made it.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said” he said hoarsely. Reconsidering, he amended his statement. “I shouldn’t have said it the way I said it. But it’s not just a fear...it’s something that’s always there, in the back of my mind.” The silver-haired man gestured helplessly. “And I think I shouldn’t have told you, or at least talked to someone else about it...but...you have to admit, that it’s singularly  _ strange  _ for someone to not be capable of forming attachments to others...and I feel like that puts an immense emotional responsibility on you. I’m not saying that you can’t handle it, just that I worry about it.” Pushing off the wall, the younger man paced forward and sank down on the cot next to his lover...brushed a hand through thick scarlet locks before drawing it back. Shaking his head, he looked towards to the door. “I’ll...manage this” he said firmly. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, and I intend to enjoy it...like I said.”

He trailed off. It was easy to feel helpless in situations like this...when neither of them seemed to say the right things...when the future seemed so uncertain. And he wasn’t good at offering reassurances, wasn’t good at painting metaphysical silver linings on dark clouds. There was also the glaring fact that he couldn’t guarantee anything tangible because so much of their future was up in the air. Formulating weightless promises was as damaging as emphasizing the darkness around them...in them. He wanted to be able to promise the older man his physical permanence, but in a world that was so unstable, it felt like a fool’s dream. Because what was stopping Shinra from demanding more and more of him once he acquiesced to this? What was stopping them from taking advantage of him via Genesis? And it felt like they were back at square one; at a crossroads for the thousandth time. But this time if he chose Genesis they would have to kill more people...they would have to feasibly slaughter half the planet to get what they wanted.   


“Can we…” he paused. “Can we discuss why you were angry in the first place?” he asked quietly. “Because if I don’t know, I can’t fix this. Or at the very least, I can’t meet you in the middle.”   


There was no other sound breaking the silence than the steady rise and fall of the chest beside him, and his own. And he wanted to offer some form of comfort but he didn’t know how, or even if it would be received well. Finally, when the blue-eyed ex-First spoke, it wasn’t his quiet voice that surprised him, or the suddenness of his query, but the question presented to him itself. “Do I hurt you in my fear?”   


There was the shuffle of clothes again, and glancing over his shoulder, he could see his lover shifting a little before turning on his back. A strong thigh brushed against his back, but other than that Genesis didn’t seemed to want for any sort of physical contact, and Sephiroth thought that maybe it wasn’t done intentionally but was more a necessity of their current seating arrangement. Through the curtain of long silver locks, he observed that the redhead wasn’t still looking at him, his profile seemingly neutral as he was gazing at the wall behind the younger man.

“Sephiroth, I can’t stop the ‘what-could-have-been’s and the ‘what-if’s in my head.” A pale hand rose to card through the crimson strands, a sigh falling from cerise lips. “I know it’s nothing compared to your memories, but walking these hallways is torture… Every time I go out more memories hang onto my back. More phantoms, more images bind my wrists and ankles like shackles and manacles. It’s weighing me down…” A rush of tremulous breath. “I can’t...I can’t stop to think if we hadn’t had that fight after-...” There was the brush of knuckles against his smallest finger as Genesis’ hand clutched the sheets at his side. “After your session with Hojo… I can’t stop to think if you hadn’t lied when you promised to take me with you whenever you went to him, where we could have been, I-...” There was a sense of urgency in his partner’s voice, as though if he didn’t give voice to his thoughts, he was going to go insane. And for a brief moment that the older man turned his head to stare up at the ceiling, Sephiroth could see the haunted look swirling inside them before those hands rose to hide the troubled visage from him. It only now occurred that it was his former comrade’s turn to have a nervous breakdown. “I can’t stop thinking about what our lives would have been like if you’d said yes that day, if you followed me, and we didn’t have to kill people to be able to live in peace now, we wouldn’t have gone through-” The cot rattled beneath them, and turning somewhat, the silver-haired ex-soldier could see the fiery head that was pressed down into the pillow, the way those trimmed nails were digging into a pale forehead and how that pointy laryngeal prominence bobbed up and down as the former Commander swallowed before speaking, his voice muffled by the balls of his hands. “And this is so unfair, unfair on you, and I think I answered my first question, because I hurt you and you hurt me, and I brought us here, so it’s my fault, and I should be the one shouldering it not you-...” Almost abruptly, one of those hands fell and latched onto his, covering over his fingers and curling around the back of his palm. “Seph I’m tired of us hurting each other, I’m tired of these chains, and it seems more and more impossible everyday to see us free, and even in death-...” A cerulean iris locked with his, and there were so many things in it all at once that made him want to look away, and yet he couldn’t, and if he kept gazing at it, it seemed more and more possible that he was going to drown in its depth. “I need you Sephiroth.” The hold around his hand tightened. “I  _ need  _ you. Or I’m going to go insane.”

Sephiroth squeezed the hand grasping his and tried not to let the fact that Genesis was reminding him of his previous inadequacies bother him. Despairingly, he acknowledged that being back at HQ was making him less reciprocative...again. Less capable of looking past the wall that always seemed to be thrown up in front of him when he was a SOLDIER...a General. It was habitual, and the redhead didn’t deserve it, but he didn’t know how to control it. Maybe, in the end, he should have talked with Vincent in private. Because while he might understand his father’s actions a little bit, it was clear that the former Commander wasn’t in a place where he could look at things logically. He felt-effectively-torn between who he had been, who he was, and who he wanted to be. And he’d only recently realized that who he wanted to be might be too forgiving...might be willing to look past things his lover was not for the sake of keeping peace. There was-undeniably-a part of him that was still enmired in the past...still stuck in that virulent darkness. When he was around Angeal and Vincent, it was easier to remind himself of what mattered...of what was important. He envied them their easiness a little bit, because none of them had the demons attached to them that he and Genesis did. And while it was true that his father and his former comrade often came bearing terrible news, it was also true that they didn’t do it on purpose. If there was anything his time reconciling with the blue-eyed individual before him had taught him, it was that  _ intent  _ mattered quite a lot more than the actual result. No one could predict the future. It was hard to look at it objectively, hard to push past the part of him that insisted that the world was determined to throw him to the ground and shatter him into pieces, but he had to. Sephiroth was also painfully cognizant of the fact that choosing benevolence could make him lose as much as he stood to gain. Because while he might gain a friend and a parent, he might also lose the only person in his life he’d ever loved. That was more than painful, and it was easier to be angry than it was to admit that he was conflicted.   


Right now, however, that didn’t matter.

“I’m here” he said simply. When no other phrase seemed quite as sufficient, he repeated it; drew that head of scarlet hair into his lap and ran his fingers through crimson locks. “I’m here, I love you, and this isn’t your fault. It isn’t anyone’s fault…” the younger man hesitated. “Not anyone that matters, in any case” he amended. “We can’t change the past, and that’s fine. What matters is now...maybe what comes afterwards.”   


The head in his lap tilted somewhat, Genesis’ cheekbone pressing against his thigh as the older man let out a trembling exhalation from between parted lips. Sephiroth found his fingers tangling in the unruly tresses of their own accord, and the redhead seemed to relax, even if it was slightly. Again, there was a moment of relative peace, or rather an instant of relative inactivity, of quiet, even though it was tinged with the tension and hysteria of their previous minutes. And the former General both wanted for these instants of comparative solace, and at the same time he couldn’t help the foreboding feeling that followed him within them. Because despite how few and far in between they were sometimes, the younger ex-First didn’t know what to do in them.

The insistent intensity of a blue gaze lapping at the shores of his consciousness brought him out of his reverie to meet it. Hesitatingly, as though the former Commander was giving him the time to pull away, a pale hand rose upward toward his head, brushing against his bangs and the side of his face before wandering past his hairline, carding through the long strands, slowly trailing a distracted path to reach the nape of his neck. Cerulean irises kept roaming over his visage, lingering more on his eyes, and sometimes lower, on his lips. And it wasn’t much of a surprise when Genesis rose somewhat-from waist up-slightly levering himself with the hand that was curved around the nape of his neck so that cerise mouth could brush gently against his; chaste, ephemeral and somewhat awkward considering how they were positioned. His eyelids dropped to half-mast as the redhead shifted and sighed, his own hand rising to cradle a hip and help pull the older ex-soldier up and closer. They had to break their lip lock, but only just for the width of a breath which was filled with his lover’s somewhat overloud sighs. Now comfortably settled between his thighs and with a pair of strong legs hugging Sephiroth’s sides, soft luxurious curves closed around his mouth with a soft moan, dexterous fingers renewing their efforts to make a disheveled mess of his hair as the lithe body of his partner surged against his before apparently thinking better and reigning himself back.

This was better than fighting, Sephiroth decided, so he was definitely going to go for it.

Leaning forward, the silver-haired man let his fingers slide up familiar thighs...memorized the texture of the fabric under his fingers as he drew the redhead in for another kiss. And with it he poured the essence that was his affection between them, let it become the primary emotion behind their exchange as he lifted a palm and cradled the back of the older man’s head. He could feel rather than see the way Genesis melted into him...felt the way his body became lax and loose and inundated with so many emotions at once. He knew there were many things left unsaid...that they would need to take the time to discuss this once they were truly alone...once they could go home again. And it was strange to think of Funaraoi as ‘home’...but that’s what it was. Something shared, something they’d learned to love-at least a little bit-together. When the former Commander gently nipped at his lower lip he shivered; opened his mouth to receive his tongue and let his own meet it. Genesis’ body was familiar under his fingers; the dip of his spine...the soft alabaster of his skin...the heat that came with him. And it was comforting in an intimate way, soothing in a manner that words were not.

When they couldn’t speak with their mouths anymore, they spoke with physicality. It seemed like their physicality was often more honest than words could ever be. Because despite the fact that Sephiroth was a man of few phrases, he still couldn’t help but touch Genesis with a kind of reverent awe...like he was touching something forbidden and incandescently beautiful. When he ran his fingers through that brilliant, scarlet hair it sent sparks from the tips of his phalanges to his carpals...like Genesis’ hair was fire and he merely had to touch it to feel the flames behind it. The kiss intensified, grew harder...deeper and a vague, mostly negligent part of him muttered that he was forgetting something that was likely important but he pushed it to the side. Nothing could be so vital as the thump of the older man’s pulse under his tongue as he let his mouth settle over the redhead’s jugular...sucking mindlessly and drawing a delighted shiver from his partner. Nothing was as important as pressing himself upwards into that heat...into the flex of his hips and the burgeoning of his arousal between his thighs.   


“Genesis” he murmured against flushed lips.   


His answer came in the form of a sigh, a tilt of an auburn head, of the detangling of fingers from his hair that dropped to the hem of his shirt and plunged inwards to settle against internal and external obliques before wandering along a distracted but fiery pattern up across his latissimus dorsi and higher still; his shirt bunching up over the fabric covering Genesis’ forearms as those nimble digits curled over trapezius muscles and held on. A jerk of hips, and his name fell from his partner’s kiss-swollen lips in a whisper, low and vibrating like the trembling of the plucked strings of a harp.   


“’m sorry.” was a hot rush of breath before a burning mouth closed just where the collar of his shirt ended and the curve where his neck met shoulder began. The physicality in his arms was like the sun-warmed wave of a calm ocean, like the lapping of the springs in Mideel against his shore, undulating and meeting his own hips in between until passion travelled up his spine like rivulets of molten fire. Drawing back to come up for an instant of lucidity in the sea of fervent desire they were slowly drowning in, they gazed at each other with equally unhinged burning eyes before surging to meet each other in yet another heady kiss; hot, open mouthed. And his former Commander was grinding the still clothed apex of his desire against his, his hands fumbling with Sephiroth’s shirt before one of them left its post to hook around the waistband of his fatigues, making a slow but sure trek toward the front, before plunging in to wrap around Sephiroth’s erection. Swallowing the moan that was rising up the back of his throat, he nipped on the plush lower lip that was slowly stretching in a self-satisfied smirk. A frictious stroke and a brush of a thumb that spread the bead of precum over the head of his arousal had the silver-haired man bit down gently, only to be rewarded with a moan.

He was dimly aware of the apology that had preceded such actions, but he couldn’t bring himself to respond to it...could only show his equal culpability as he thrust his hands under the stitching of the older man’s top...ascended until his fingers found peaked nipples to flick absentmindedly as he ground forward idly, as he watched a-frankly-beautiful flush spread across pale cheeks. Genesis arched into his touch-seemed to be conflicted between pressing into his hands or thrusting his hips. It was in this state of confliction that he was singularly beautiful... singularly individual. Because despite all the times they argued, there was still this shared space...this breathless gasp between everything they were...strung out like a necklace of pearls shivering in desirous wonder. And as he let one hand descend once more to cup the redhead’s erection through his pants he shuddered...not only with desire, but with love.

Emerald eyes observed as Genesis tipped his head back, as his mouth parted at his touch...sapphire irises glazed and distracted. Squeezing lightly, he couldn’t help the soft hiss of breath that escaped from between his teeth as his lover groaned. Tilting his head, he let his lips latch over the soft downward slope of a stubborn jaw. Allowing his fingers to skirt the hemline of the former Commander's pants, he descended with his mouth as his fingers worried the give of the elastic before foregoing teasing so he could wrap his hand around the girth of his partner's cock. Unable to help himself, he let his gaze sweep downwards to observe; to watch as the rosy head disappeared in the circle of his fingers as he facilitated a lazy upward stroke...pausing to revel in the low, adulant noise that spilled from cerise lips.   


“Beautiful” he mumbled distractedly.   


The grin that stretched across that familiar face was as self-assured as it was filthy. The breath that left Genesis’ mouth was almost a purr as he leaned forward to kiss him again. It was more of a distracted intoxicating slide of moist lips against kiss-swollen luxurious curves, the timid flick of a tongue before it turned into an assertive brush along his own; the ever rising temperature of their mingled breaths betwixt their connecting and disconnecting mouths, the sighs that turned into moans, the groans that were stifled by the constricting brand of digits around his neck as those burning blue eyes gazed at him from underneath red lashes.

“Gorgeous.” Genesis uttered, ducking his head to bite gently on his earlobe, the huff of his breaths loud and warm against the shell of his ear. A forward jerk of their hips, and there was a groan that turned into a breathless laugh as the older ex-soldier pried his hand open, brought their erections together while an adroit tongue was doing wonderful things against the side of his neck and the hollow under his jaw that sent delicious shivers down the younger man’s spine. Spitting distractly in his palm, the former General took both of them in hand, and the way that virile body jerked upward against his precum slick fingers that held onto the exquisite arch of a lower back made Sephiroth mirror the smile his lover had given him moments ago. Firm languid strokes, and the abandon in his fiery-haired partner’s movements made it harder to keep a languorous pace, to not give himself over and bring both of them quickly to the release they were both seeking.

The world spun when his former comrade angled his head to ensnare him in yet another open-mouthed kiss, the leash of his restraints slipping more and more through his fingers just like the silky soft locks of fire cascading over his lover’s shoulders. Another brush of his grip around their arousals, the velvety drag of the underside of Genesis’ cock against his frenulum, and both of them had to come up gasping for air. The quivering exhale falling from those perfect lips in the shape of a  _ ‘Hhhnn…’ _ , the trembling bridge of spit that still connected their mouths before it fell apart as his partner threw his head back and bucked up against his hand and erection. Another stroke, and Sephiroth couldn’t help but groan at the salacious vociferation of his name. “ _ Seph-...! _ ”

He was going to come.   


Somewhat desperately, the younger man wondered if he ought to be embarrassed about it. Because it had-effectively-not been very long at all. But it had also been quite a long time since they’d indulged in each other, since they’d gotten the chance to make love in any way, shape or form. One of Genesis’ arms journeyed somewhat...artistic digits joining his own at the apex between their thighs and the firm grip on his erection was a potent point of fixation; the soft-hard silk of the arousal pressed against his own deliriously personal. With distinct distraction, Sephiroth let his unoccupied hand create a wide, sweeping trail down the slope of the former Commander’s spine; over his sacral triangle and slightly to the left so he could palm the curve of the redhead’s ass. The blue-eyed ex-soldier stilled, shuddered when he squeezed and the need that rose within him in response was purely instinctual. Because it had been a  _ long  _ time since he’d had Genesis that way...so long. And he  _ wanted... _ wanted it more than he could describe.   


But he knew that now was likely not the time, and certainly not the place. It was hard to revert his focus...especially when his companion was so receptive to his advances. Still, there was the stark truth that the older man could become unresponsive if he pushed too hard...and he didn’t want to risk that. Squeezing his eyes shut, Sephiroth repressed an inchoate utterance...let his lips drag over the slope of an ivory shoulder as he lifted his hips...pressed upwards to further the contact facilitated by their joined erections as he clutched the tempting curvature of Genesis’ backside once more...reveled in the firmness of the musculature beneath. And the hitch of breath his actions brought forth was music to his ears, the silver-haired man heard himself groan as Genesis auscultated to it; scarlet brows drawing together somewhat as kiss-swollen lips formed into the smallest semblance of a frown that wasn’t really a frown but a sort of equanimous relish that commanded his concentration. And he wanted to push further, wanted to slide his fingers betwixt smooth curves to stroke the hidden furrow of his lover’s entrance...wanted to feel clenching, glossy heat around seeking digits. Pulling himself from his fast-descending thoughts, Sephiroth resurfaced in time to yank his hand back from doing just that...deliberately moved it away as he glanced upwards to find Genesis watching him with an unreadable expression...still deep in the throes of arousal but clearly observant. Finding a safer place for his wandering fingers, the former General rested them against the jut of a hip as he tilted his chin to capture his companion’s lips.

“Sorry” he muttered raggedly.   


There was a click of a tongue, the sound more perfunctory than chastising before sharp incisors bit his lower lip gently, slits of azure irises barely visible from underneath wreathes of red as Genesis pulled back slightly before letting go. Again, deft fingers were prising his hold open from around their cock before pushing the nondescript fatigues lower on the redhead’s muscular thighs. Apparently frustrated with how little he could manage it considering their position, the former Commander gave up, and instead pulled his shirt up and over his head, revealing a wealth of pale creamy skin that made Sephiroth want to trace it with his fingers, with his mouth... But before he could actually do it, his hands just barely settled over his lover’s lean sides, the older ex-First’s fingers curled around the base of his erection, guiding it in a half-sliding half-dragging journey over his perineum, and the between the same glutes he’d been palming moments ago.

The rush of his partner’s breath as it ghosted over his face was a beautiful thing, just like the physicality before him, the exquisite arch of Genesis’ back as the redhead was again conflicted between throwing his head back or bowing it before he started moving, undulating in a graceful sinuous curve of sinew and ivory epidermis. And the way those hips rolled between his palms, the transient brush of the furrow of his lover’s entrance against the head of his cock that was smearing precum along the crevice of the older man’s ass was promising of what he’d been wanting before dragging it away. The former Commander had a forearm digging onto Sephiroth’s shoulder, his digits flexing and relaxing against the side of his neck as he moved, and when the silver-haired ex-soldier looked up, his partner was brushing auburn tresses away from his face, those cruel lips parted and stretched in a breathless smile as burning blue eyes gazed into his with a mixture of lust and affection.   


“ _ I want you Seph. _ ” Those luxurious curves formed around the soundless vowels and consonants, before his fiery lover jerked his hips, the head of Sephiroth’s cock pressing against the tight ring of muscle in a way he knew was probably painful. Genesis was arching against him, throwing his head back and if it weren’t for the former General’s hands holding onto those powerful hips, he’d fallen over the edge of the bed.

He couldn’t-in good conscience-take Genesis raw. Not only because it would likely be painful but because it seemed somehow flagrantly rude and the redhead was being far too good to him for him to feel comfortable with being impolite in return. So when he caught a lithe hip and gently but inexorably forced his partner to settle-earning him a slight exclamation of pique-he felt slightly put-out but not at all guilty. Draping one of those long arms over his shoulder, he waited until the older man had a somewhat firm grip before lifting his other hand to cup a smooth cheek, rubbing his thumb over soft skin before lifting his middle and forefinger and letting them hover just before the former Commander’s visage. Blue eyes widened in mock-innocence and Sephiroth raised a sardonic silver brow in response...watching as his companion was unable to keep the expression for long.   


A teasing, affectionate smile made itself known in a reluctant curve and he watched as a pink tongue snaked between slightly parted lips...air ghosting between the webs of his fingers before it was replaced by just the barest hint of warm...wet heat. And it was enthralling, the sensation of moisture, the subtle issue of steady eupnea; the manner in which those blazing blue eyes watched him under scarlet lashes...the arch of those graceful hips. Up, across, down and between and Sephiroth’s breathing was ragged...occasionally arrested entirely. Genesis made his triumph known in the smile that crossed his face whenever he drew away somewhat...and when the scarlet-haired ex-soldier took his fingers deep-nearly nudging the back of his throat-he chuckled around them as Sephiroth groaned.   


It would have been easy to become distracted by it...to revel in the altruistic pleasure he was offered until oblivion took him but he would never be so unchivalrous. So when the former General was fairly sure he was going to explode otherwise, he lifted his now-thoroughly prepared hand away and brought it between them...stopped to adjust their position and let his fingers slide over the weeping apex of Genesis’ cock before letting them glide downwards...past that soft-firm expanse of flesh to the crease below. Barely-there...like the shudder of a butterfly’s wing and the blue-eyed man shivered...that head of fiery hair drooping slightly as Sephiroth tilted his head just-so to capture those perfect lips once again. Another pass and time seemed to hang suspended...seemed to spin out...like a thread of sand breaking free-if only momentarily-from the swirl of the eternal hourglass of chronology. The feeling in his soul was that of profound gratefulness coupled with profound hunger...and when they parted he took a moment to gather himself before opening his mouth.

“...Are you sure?”   


His answer came within a gesture, a movement again, as Genesis closed his mouth around his, the moist warmth that had trailed along his fingers now brushing against the seam of his lips before Sephiroth met it with his tongue, his redheaded lover’s moan getting lost betwixt their languorous yet fervent kiss. It was like an aphrodisiac, robbing him of any sense of logic, of his restraint, and it was almost enough to forget that his former comrade hadn’t answered his query, it was hard to keep his fingers from curling and venturing past that tight hot ring of muscle. Before he could break for air however, his fiery partner lowered his hips, fingers circling around his wrist to make him comply. The loud moan that was fed into his mouth, the magnificent sheen of sweat that broke over the pearlescent skin under his fingertips like a tull of tiny diamonds filled him with a feeling of reverence so strong that had him faltering for a moment; a moment which the older man used to plunder his mouth mercilessly before drawing back to leave a trail of burning blooming kisses down across his jaw and over his shoulders as he lowered himself onto Sephiroth’s fingers, before moving inexorably upward.

A heavy hot sigh ghosted over the shell of his ear, Genesis’ tone both seductive and prurient as he whispered. “I want you  _ Seph… _ I want you to  _ fuck  _ me  _ hard _ .” And as the redhead’s voice traveled in a delicious shudder down his spine to pool inside the pit in his stomach, to make his cock achingly hard, Sephiroth felt the world fall away around them into an almost indiscernible unimportant blur, dimly hearing the knocking at their door, but it wasn’t important. If he paid it no heed, they’d go away. His lover hissed at the next egress and ingress of his digits, baring an elegant throat for him to ravish as his fingertips brushed that soft spot inside him, the silver-haired man didn’t care at all that there was another hiss, totally different in nature, mechanic, the whirring of the mechanisms barely registering in the heady haze of their passion. Soft, warm...everything his memory could recall but so much more tangible. The fire in those sapphire eyes...the glitter of pale skin...the thump of two sets of booted feet.   


“Gene- _ goddamnit!”   
_

Horror.   


Really,  _ horror  _ was too kind a word. This was also coupled with a kind of incensed indignation because Sephiroth had been about to have what he was fairly sure would have been the most mind blowing sex in his entire existence when everyone in the room froze. It was like some cosmic deity with a twisted and frankly terrible sense of humor pressed the pause button on their existence and then got up to use the facilities. An existence where he was currently sitting with his fingers in a redhead’s ass with their naked bodies on practically full display while said redhead’s childhood friend and his  _ father  _ walked in the door and then were magically petrified as well. And he didn’t know what was worse, the fact that his very apparent erection promptly died an instantaneous death along with his partner’s, or the fact that Genesis went from aroused to  _ furious  _ so fast it was rather like he’d been making out with a lion disguised as a bichon frise.   


The older man’s face went as red as his hair as they both simultaneously moved to scramble off each other, somehow managing to tip sideways onto the mattress. Someone-Sephiroth assumed it must have been Vincent-made a horrified noise and when he was somewhat able to look again his sire was facing away with his palms over his eyes. Angeal was still facing forward, and he supposed that was fair because he had seen them both naked at some point, whether on missions or-in Genesis’ case-walking around the Third class barracks for no other reason than being stupidly attractive. The dark-haired First had his arms folded across his chest and despite the fact that his hair was streaked with fine overtones of white he still managed to look somehow powerfully disapproving. Sephiroth was tangled up in his hair, which for the first time he hated with a kind of monstrous desperation that could only come from a situation like this. And he wanted to say something clever-or maybe just  _ ‘get out!’- _ but his mouth wasn’t working correctly. By the time he found his pants his scarlet-haired lover appeared to have worked himself up into a kind of silent frenzy and for once he found himself desperately agreeing with his irate state of existence.   


“I was told that  _ you  _ were told that you had an hour” Angeal said grouchily.   


From the corner of his eyes he could see as Genesis dragged up his pants, tucked his softened cock inside rather angrily before stepping toward the dark-haired First. Following his lover’s suit, in terms of making himself somewhat presentable and less disheveled, Sephiroth stood up, turned around to see the redhead pull down his shirt over his head and run his hand through the slightly damp tresses that had stuck to his forehead in a manner that was not the least bit gentle. Azure eyes bored into his with a look that promised murder, though definitely not his, before those rubicund kiss-swollen lips parted. “Are you coming Seph? We’ve been _ summoned _ .” The last part his partner uttered like a curse, with so much venom as though it hadn’t been only moments ago that the same mouth was feeding him a saccharine wave of moans and vocables.

Pivoting on his heel, the ex-Commander muttered something unintelligible under his breath, not waiting for him to follow as he made his way toward their mutual former comrade, and when Sephiroth had expected the redhead to shove his way between his father and his lover, Genesis kneed Angeal in the groin. The green-eyed individual wasn’t sure if it was more horrifying as the time seemed to stretch in front of him, Angeal’s face scrunching in on itself as he doubled over, the hands that were crossed over his chest reaching for the source of his apparent agony as he let out a barely stifled growl of pain.   


As though nothing had happened, his lover sauntered passed the entryway as the gunslinger was looking flabbergasted at his partner before looking at Genesis who was standing across from him just out of the door with a shadow of a malicious smirk tugging on his lips. A feeling of foreboding crept across Sephiroth’s psyche. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was, or where it was coming from but it coiled in his belly like a venomous snake. Thankfully-or perhaps not thankfully-he didn’t have much time to wonder about it, because the reasoning became entirely clear a few seconds later. Vincent-who by his memory was completely sane and composed-stalked over to his redheaded lover and stood before him. For maybe a split-second they were face to face, red eyes staring into blue. The youngest of the quartet opened his mouth to say something-anything-but it was too late. Because Vincent then reared back and punched Genesis square in the face.   


It was-the former General acknowledged-an extremely fast move. And he’d known his father wasn’t exactly the picture of pristine and immaculate calmness but the speed at which it occurred was staggering even to him. The gunslinger didn’t-thankfully-go for the redhead’s nose or his jaw, because Sephiroth was fairly sure that if he had he would have broken something. As it was, the blue-eyed ex-first rolled with it; staggered backwards somewhat and then looked at the older man like he’d never quite seen him before. Angeal had somewhat recovered himself and seemed to be on the verge of trying to intervene, but both of the men not involved knew it was far too late for that. In some ways, Sephiroth was relieved, because he had somewhat seen this coming...and while he could understand that his father was defending his ailing lover he could also understand that his partner was someone who did not get punched and then just lie down and take it.   


“Why don’t you go for someone who isn’t  _ dying  _ of a degenerative illness?!” Vincent spat.   


Genesis wiped his broken lip with the back of his palm as Angeal turned to glance questioningly at Sephiroth, probably wondering if they should really interfere before it got too out of hand. His beryl irises darted to his partner’s murderous azure eyes as the redhead smiled a bloody smile before mirroring the gesture the ebon-haired gunslinger had bestowed upon him only for Vincent to catch it. This, if possible made the furious flame inside the blue depths burn brighter, as the former Commander spat a “Fuck you!”, moved as if he wanted to headbut his father before kicking the eldest of them in the shin rather forcefully. “This has nothing to do with you,  ** _stay _ ** _ out of it. _ ”   


Angeal rushed over to Vincent’s side before the gunman could do anything. “Stop it the two of you. Do you want to-...”

“Do you want to what? Force Administration to throw us back to Funaraoi?  _ Oh _ , you don’t know  _ how much  _ I’d like that.” Genesis’ eyes narrowed. “But I know your perfect little tyranny would rather have two agents inside AVALANCHE who for all they care can wipe the whole uprising out before it got too serious and out of hand.” A pause. “Isn’t that what you’re thinking? What you’re all thinking? Who better than us to kill more people when we’re up to our heads in blood,  _ huh? _ Now, if you’re done cajoling your boyfriend, can we get going before you die of a degenerative illness?”

Vincent was looking like he wanted to go for Genesis again, because the red in his eyes was frankly a little bit unhinged and Sephiroth didn’t particularly like the idea of Angeal getting hurt while the older man was trying to get to his target, so he did the only thing he could do. When the gunslinger lunged forward he met his movement head on, pushed the General out of the way and slammed him back into the wall of the cell. For the moment they were locked there together...he was staring into crimson irises and the emotion in them was somewhat like getting hit with a freight train. Because there was rage, a lot of it, but there was also  _ pain  _ and a terrible kind of fear that he reluctantly recognized from that time so long ago when the former Commander was in his childhood friend’s position. Then the ebon-haired man snarled and tried to force his way past him...tried to circumvent him again and he was forced to give up observance in favor of restraint.

“As much as you might hate it, he’s  _ my  _ lover” Vincent snarled. “So when you physically hurt him you  _ make  _ it about me as much as it’s about the two of you! I don’t give a flying-” he appeared to struggle with his control before apparently tossing it to the wind again. “You are the most  _ arrogant,  _ self-centered, dramatic-I’d rather  _ die  _ than rely on  _ you _ to save us, and the only reason I’m doing so is for him-”   


“-Be silent” Sephiroth snapped, pushing him roughly back again. When those scarlet eyes fixated on the him again he kept his attention by placing the lower half of his palm against a headbanded forehead and pressing down...until the back of the ex-Turk’s skull hit the cell wall. “This isn’t you. Stop it.”   


For a long moment, it seemed as if the man before him wasn’t going to listen to him. And he was frankly a little bit  _ sad  _ that it had come to this...between his lover and his father. He understood both sides, which was a little bit shocking….but he couldn’t allow it to go any further. When the older man sagged, he was relieved, but the expression of defeat in his visage was somehow disheartening as well. Glancing at Angeal, he was-and wasn’t-surprised to find him looking at him with a sincerely grateful expression. And he knew it wasn’t for keeping him out of harm’s way, but for trying to keep the peace. Vincent shifted again, and this time the silver-haired ex-soldier backed up to give him space. Black leather-clad fingers adjusted that familiar scarlet cloak as his sire cleared his throat and then straightened.

“Let’s get on with it” he said flatly.   


When Vincent passed him by, Sephiroth quickly turned around because he wasn’t sure if his sire or his redheaded lover wouldn’t start lunging at each other again, only to see Genesis flash a cheeky grin at the crimson-caped gunslinger. Thankfully, the eldest of them didn’t give the former Commander’s taunt any heed. And maybe it wasn’t just because of the silver-haired man’s attempts to calm his father but also because of his former comrade’s fingers that were intertwined with the same black leather-clad fingers. Sephiroth pressed his lips into a thin line before they had the chance to quirk downward at a corner, pushing what that gesture raised in him and the thoughts it evoked down in favor of a mask of neutrality as he fell into step behind them. Briefly, he noticed that the mirth that had been dancing over his partner’s features wasn’t there anymore or even in his eyes, cold blue lakes locked with his for a brief moment before they were swarmed by an entourage of Turks again.   


Veld was there, explaining in a perfunctory tone that they had to cuff them again because of protocol, but it seemed neither he nor Genesis were listening. Angeal quickly reached for Genesis, and the manacle that closed around his wrist was attached to his father’s just as it had been on the flight from their home, the same digits the dark-haired General had held onto moments ago twining with his, and Sephiroth wanted to pull away, because he wasn’t a  _ child _ , but the hold tightened, and the commiserating look he was receiving from their mutual former comrade was almost enough to make him be the first one to start what they had ended back there inside their cell. That was when the realization dawned on him. Vincent wasn’t holding onto his hand because he wanted to make him miserable or drive whatever pride and dignity he had left into the ground, but it was to prevent him from drawing upon the corrupt Lifestream. It made sense now, and he wondered if the small voice who had thought that it was for his comfort on their flight from home was right or the insidious one who wanted to yank free and summon Masamune and be done with this ridiculous affair.

Out in the corridors, to the elevator, and the ghosts of his memories came to life. He understood, almost instantly what his redheaded lover had been talking about before. Sephiroth was accosted with recollections; of walking to work...of checking his comm for messages. Of stopping to talk with or bark at misbehaving recruits, of the respect he used to see in their eyes. The grind of a typical day... paperwork and phone calls and the smell of cheap coffee. Leaning against the wall while he listened to the office grunts gossip. Angeal giving him a polite nod, Lazard pushing his glasses up and muttering to himself. Loneliness...the feeling of strangeness. Up into Administration-the President's old floor-and it was more virulent. He could recall the meeting he'd sat in on as they discussed capturing or killing Genesis...the flagrant disregard he'd had for his life. Empty offices and the murmur of memorial ghosts... stepping into the hallway where the scarlet-haired man’s childhood friend had given him an envelope…

_ Photographs… _

And he wasn't aware that he had stopped, wasn't aware of the strangled noise that forced itself from his throat. Sephiroth could only concentrate on the last time he'd been there, on what had been in his hands, on what had been running through his mind. The sense of missing something he needed to breathe, the feeling of loss and the terrible knowledge of what he'd done. Pain, so much pain and there was a muffled thump but he was blind to it...deaf to it. Because he had stood in this hallway and stared at a thousand memories like they were going to crush him alive. Like everything they were was reaching out to swallow him whole screaming  _ 'you did this!!’  _ And he had,  _ he had done it.   
_

_ “-Roth... _ Sephiroth…”

Hands, there were hands on either side of his face and when he took a breath he became aware that it was the first one he had taken in a long time. His back to the wall, the entirety of his physicality trembling and the shame that came with it was almost crushing in of itself. Crimson eyes were staring into his and he wanted to howl  _ 'help me!’  _ and  _ 'how could you?!’  _ in the same breath. But somehow...like always, Vincent was grounding. His presence was comforting in a way that could only be called paternal and when Sephiroth bowed his head, felt a soothing hand run through his hair he didn't push it away because he was fairly sure if he did he wouldn't be able to do this. And he knew there were eyes on them...numerous eyes...most of them distant and calculating but he couldn't bring his cognizance to focus on it.   


“Breathe.”

He did. Because it was the only thing he could do. The silver-haired ex-soldier inhaled deeply...exhaled and repeated the process until he felt marginally sane. The hand in his hair came down to carefully cup his cheek and he was aware of what it looked like; aware of what others would think it looked like. Because to an outsider, to the men around them it was rather like a trainer calming a rabid animal...because that’s all they would ever see in him. Something to be shackled, something to be controlled. The reality of it was a father trying to comfort his brutally traumatized child but that didn’t matter, would never matter. He leaned into the touch because it was grounding, because it made him feel a little bit important even if that sense of value was something false. He might die...tomorrow...inundated with a savage ground of mindless civilians so he allowed it, he allowed himself to have this because he might never have it again. And when he finally pushed away from the wall to continue to the conference room, it was with the knowledge that at the very least, he had his lover, his friend, and his  _ father.  _ Lazard was waiting by the door and he gave them a somewhat tired smile, one that was-unlike so many others-devoid of judgement.   


“It’s good to see you all” he said calmly.   


Genesis was awfully quiet behind him, and he wanted to look over his shoulder, but they were somewhat forced to walk forward, past the doors and into the conference room he’d sat so many times. There was no President Shinra with his sweaty hands and his rotund face, who had dragged him around like a dog on a leash to show off to others like an exotic animal in a gilded cage in numerous parties, who had called him exactly what Hojo had called him, a  _ dog _ , the last time he’d been here. There was a board assembled, like all the other meetings they’d attended, or he had alone before Angeal and Genesis had come along, before they’d risen through the ranks to stand beside him, and he couldn’t help but be reminded of the many times Hojo had tried drilling it into his head that they were beneath him.   


And now it all made sense.

The blatant disregard for his redheaded partner’s efforts, and maybe it was the same for Angeal too, and maybe unlike Genesis he’d born it better, didn’t let it get him all infuriated like it did the oldest of their broken-up trio.

Among them were several familiar faces, and it was strange to see the head of Urban Development sitting where the President used to sit. Sephiroth couldn’t help but wonder, albeit briefly, if the seat was safe enough to be occupied by another, if it wouldn’t somehow corrupt Tuesti, turn him into yet another Shinra. Pushing that thought to the side as they took their own seats, still cuffed and holding Vincent’s hand, Genesis and Angeal taking the seats right next to them, and their entourage of Turks was still at their backs. Chancing a glance at his redheaded partner, the older man was looking down whereas he usually held his head high, his visage obscured by a fringe of auburn strands.

“Thank you for cooperating and also for volunteering to come here to help cure General Hewley’s illness.” Reeve spoke, standing as he continued. “As Mr. Valentine must have informed you, we’re here to make the final decision about AVALANCHE’s demand for your transference from Shinra to their base. All the executives have agreed to it, though General Hewley and Mr. Valentine appealed to the board for your own choice to be heard.” The dark-haired man lowered his head somewhat, his posture changing as he leant on his fingers that had started trailing slowly over the table. “I’m afraid to tell you that it’s in your best interest that you comply-...”   


There was the clank of a chain pulling taut, and his eyes darted to Genesis who’d suddenly risen up in his seat. “Let me go with him.” Sephiroth pushed down the memory that rushed to the forefront of his mind, the scenario painfully familiar, if it weren’t for how his lover’s right limb was being dragged down by Angeal, the muscular arm of their former mutual comrade trembling under the strain. The guns that had been drawn out of their holsters remained where they had, probably the head of the Administrative Research gesturing them not to do anything rash. The scarlet-haired ex-First continued. “You’re sending us not as hostages but also as preventive measures, aren’t you?  _ Let me go with him _ . They won’t refuse, because instead of one, they’re being handed two of the most powerful men on Gaia. It’s win-win for all of you, and you don’t have to carry on with this circus anymore.”   


There was an explosion of discussion across the table and this, too, was familiar. The squabbling was almost jarring in its normalcy; almost as if nothing had changed since the day they left. The silver-haired man was accosted with the urge to do something out of character just to break the mirage of time-lapse that suffused the atmosphere but he knew it would be unwise. Eventually, Reeve called for order, though it was in a weary sort of way...as if this was a scenario he was all too familiar with. At his word, the group of Administrators settled, but it took significantly longer than it would have with President Shinra. And it was difficult to shake the feeling that at any moment he would waddle into the room; that he would bark at Reeve for stealing his seat and then sit down with his customary mountain of doughnuts. That he would turn to Sephiroth and Genesis and order their immediate executions.

“We don’t have any guarantee that either of you will return once your task is complete” Reeve pointed out. His tone was hard, but his eyes were gentle...and the former General understood that he was speaking for the sake of his underlings, but he was also asking for their input.

“Where-” Sephiroth cleared his throat, watched as several of the Board members shrank back as the timbre of his voice filled the room. And he knew it had been a long while since any of them had heard it, since his presence had filled the halls and offices of HQ. But he resented the retreat behind their gestures, the sense that he was somehow more animalistic than them. “Where would we go?” he continued, gesturing with his free hand. “You’ve provided us with a place where we can live quiet, semi-normal lives. Living a life on the run pales in comparison to that.”   


“And you expect us to believe that?” one of the advisors squawked, gnarled fingers tugging at his ascot. “You murdered a fifth of the planet’s population and you expect us to believe that you want peace?!”   


“We’re not here to discuss past transgressions” Vincent cut in calmly. “We are here to discuss an ultimatum that could have disastrous consequences should we refuse. And I think it’s fair to send Genesis, per his request.”

“Fair” a salt-and-pepper-haired woman scoffed, shifting in her seat. “We all know what they’re capable of, what they could do if they should so choose.”   


“Madam undersecretary” another man said calmly. “I must remind you that neither of them will be given their weapons. And there’s always the option of the chips.”   


There was a moment of silence, and Sephiroth was sincerely confused. Genesis looked equally stymied, glancing from the director of SOLDIER to Angeal with a blank expression. Vincent looked-to put it simply-horrified.   


“I thought we agreed that those weren’t an option” his father said numbly. “When we transferred them to the techs you  _ guaranteed  _ us that you wouldn’t utilize them.”   


“There was a change of plans” Reeve replied, his voice tight...his eyes crinkling with anxiety “The Board voted in favor of it, and there were too many for it for the opposition to have a voice.”   


“Neither Angeal nor I were present in that vote” Vincent hissed, standing abruptly and Sephiroth was forced to lift his wrist to accommodate it. “You  _ disregarded  _ our standards! You dismissed them-!”

“-Regardless” the President interrupted. “There’s nothing to be done about it now.”   


There was a very low but equally pissed murmur from where Angeal was looking pleadingly at his father, Genesis’ long fingers gripping their mutual former comrade’s so tightly that his knuckles were white.   


“Now please if you would sit down Mr. Valentine,” Tuesti had a somewhat apologetic look in his eyes, and finally his father did sit down, or somewhat slumped into his chair, a defeated expression passing over his normally impassive features as the new President of the Shinra company continued, his eyes lingering on those members who had disagreed. “Com- Former Commander has a point.” There was a graceless snort, Reeve’s eyes darting toward Genesis before continuing their trek around the table. “If we send both Sephiroth and Genesis in, we’ll have the advantage of them neutralizing the opposition were they to get out of hand swiftly, and efficiently.” At this, some executives who seemed to be looking for civil war and unrest seemed to be somewhat appeased. “We’d be able to gather intel from the inside of AVALANCHE to know how to deal with them better once we set a date for the public conference. And you have the measures necessary to make sure our agents wouldn’t run loose. Furthermore, there’s also the fact that we wouldn’t have to provide for them during their absence while the assistants work in the labs on General Hewley’s cure. And the company can revert to its normal working conditions until then.”   


The murmur circulating around the meeting was somewhat more hushed. Meanwhile Veld rose from his seat to stand beside the President’s chair in the same manner they used to do when they wanted to give the head of the company a private news. Curt nods were exchanged before the head of the Turks returned to his chair, and finally a hush fell. At this point, Tuesti stood up yet again, opening his mouth to speak. “Ladies and gentlemen, executives of the board, now we vote. Those in favor with transferring Sephiroth and Genesis Rhapsodos say Aye and raise your hands.” Looking around, the silver-haired former General dispassionately noticed that the most majority of the board had in fact raised their hands. “Those in disfavor, say Nay and raise your hands.” It was obvious that they’d agreed to their terms albeit begrudgingly. “It is done then. We’re sending Genesis Rhapsodos and Sephiroth at the proposed time to the people. Council dismissed.”

People started rising from their seats, and the looks they were being given, the four of them, ranged from sympathetic to downright disgusted and sometimes horrified. Just as his sire and Angeal were about to stand, Veld who had made his way through the throng of people told them to stay. Across from them Reeve was still seated, looking away the moment his beryl gaze traveled across the room to meet his.   


Finally, with everyone out of the door, the silence returned to the room, and Angeal was the first one to break it. “How could you do it?”   


“Oh shut up, Angeal.” Genesis interrupted. “What did you expect? I told you, you’re both blin-...”

“My sincerest apologies, but I had no choice, and that’s not why I asked you to stay.” Tuesti interjected. “Based on our reports, there’s a girl called Aerith Gainsborough among the leaders of AVALANCHE. She was one of professor Hojo’s experiments who ran away with her mother, but they were found by Shinra…” Reeve trailed off, taking the file Tseng gave him with a nod of thanks before placing it on the table in front of himself. “The story is quite long, and the information you might need is provided here, should you wish to know more. What we want you to do is to find out what AVALANCHE has in store for her, because she’s the last of the Cetran race, and they possibly knew it when they approached her.” A brief pause. “If the situation was to become violent, your priority after saving yourselves is to save this girl. Understood?”

“No” Sephiroth said flatly. “Why would I go out of my way to save someone I don’t know? I’m not Shinra’s  _ dog  _ anymore, Tuesti, in case you’ve forgotten. Her lineage means nothing to me.”   


“Be that as it may” Reeve said wearily. “Shinra cannot afford to lose track of her. It’s too dangerous.” He appeared to consider before continuing. “I don’t want to have to threaten you in order to see this done-”

“-But you will” the former General purred, interrupting him. “Isn’t that right? And what will you threaten us with, I wonder? The loss of Funaraoi?” When the President looked grim he laughed bitterly. “Of course. Fine. I’ll retrieve your  _ girl  _ should I sense that things are going awry. But only for the sake of myself and my fellow exile. I hope you don’t intend to treat her like Shinra treated us, but frankly, I couldn’t care less.” Pale, slender fingers gestured in the general direction of the proffered folder. “ At least you gave us identification of some sort; otherwise I’d have dragged the first sorry bint I found off the streets and to hell with whether it was the right one or not.”   


“Sephiroth-” Angeal cut in, his voice somewhat shocked.   


“-No” the younger man snapped, standing, heedless as Vincent scrambled up beside him. “I’m not going to play nice with Shinra just because they’ve ‘turned over a new leaf’, and I’m not going to play  _ nice  _ with AVALANCHE because they think they could possibly do better, because they think they represent something better. Frankly, I don’t give a damn if humanity tears itself to pieces, but I  _ do  _ care about the tangibility of my own solace...and since humanity seems so determined to tear it to shreds I’ll do as I’m told...for now. So hurry up and let’s get this done with. I want to go home.”   


He was aware that Vincent was tense at his side...that the rigidity of his posture indicated an extreme amount of stress. But he was also aware that it wasn’t directed at him, that it was directed at the President and at what he represented.   


“I want the chips out” Vincent said in a low voice. “When they get back, you’ll remove the chips. Or I’m going to find a way to get them out myself. You went against the most  _ important  _ part of our agreement, their retainment of autonomy despite their confinement. I don’t believe in neutralization when your adversary can’t fight back. This isn’t what I returned to Shinra for, this isn’t what we wanted for them.”

“The Board’s vote is  _ final’  _ Reeve said, and his tone sounded almost pleading.

“You’ll forgive me for saying this” Sephiroth’s father said tightly. “But if you don’t fix this, I doubt there will be a Board for you to worry about once we tell them what exactly this is. You took a risk, a  _ stupid  _ risk in an attempt to placate. If the consequences are fatal for Shinra, it’s on your head, and I’m not going to be here to pick up the pieces.” The gunslinger paused and a sly expression crossed his face. “Better yet, why don’t  _ you  _ explain it to them? That’ll be interesting.” There was a distinct clattering noise and the silver-haired man raised an eyebrow as the end of the cuff attached to his sire was released. The crimson-eyed ex-Turk jerked his head at Angeal and Genesis. “Take those  _ ridiculous  _ things off. It’s not like they’re what’s keeping them here anyway, and I’m sick of seeing us- _ all of us- _ dance to Administration’s tune just so you can stab us in the back.” He whirled and marched towards the exit, pushing it open before turning and glaring at his son. “I’m assuming we’ll be meeting at the entrance in a few hours. If you’re not there, I will hunt you down and drag you back by your hair.”   


The door slammed shut, and for a moment, the remaining individuals could only stare at it in a dazed short of shock. Sephiroth recovered first, clearing his throat before opening his mouth to speak.

“He’s having a bad day...apparently” he said dryly, shaking the loose loop of the handcuffs before walking to Angeal’s free side and offering them to him. “I’m assuming it’s not allowed” he supplied when the General looked at him in confusion. “We’ll have to walk in single file to get out the door” he continued, feeling oddly cheerful.   


The dark-haired First looked at the door before at the dangling loop in front of him, and then at Tuesti. “You know what, I think Vincent’s right. I didn’t expect you to do that, to fold under the pressure of the board and not because of a real threat, but because you  _ panicked _ . And we’d both given you our  _ word _ .” There was the clink of chains, and the cuff on around the General’s wrist was released too. “I don’t care about any of these. I can let it all slide, but I can’t bear to think that you decided to go behind our back, to fall into the same secrecy I’d sworn not to succumb to, that  _ we _ all had sworn not to succumb to, to do this to them?” Standing up, the blue-eyed First continued. “They’re humans, as much as they both might hate the word, and as much as the rest of the world might refuse to see them that way. They deserve peace, a normal life as much as we can afford to give them… This is not the values we stand for Reeve.” Their mutual former comrade gestured to the side of his own head. “I’m sorry but you can blame it on my deteriorating mental faculties when you set another board meeting without me and Vincent, or without telling us at least. You brought this on yourself, and I’m going to have to check up on my lover,  _ sir _ .” And with that Angeal too, followed his father’s suit in the same rushed and somewhat irate air, leaving him, Genesis, the new president of Shinra and an entourage of Turks.

Quite frankly, Sephiroth couldn’t help the mirth that seemed to bubble up inside him to see how their presence only had rendered their government almost dysfunctional. His redheaded lover sat where he’d been, red tresses falling over where his forehead leant over the juncture of forefinger and thumb. His shoulders were shaking somewhat, and for a moment the slightest frown was tugging silver brows downwards before the sound of laughter started filling the room. Bright blue eyes rose to his, softened in his joy and also by the affection that never seemed to leave them whenever he regarded the former General, before asking just as jovially. “We seem to have a couple hours of freedom, where to Seph?”

“Before you go” Reeve said wearily. “I should probably explain the function of the chips.”

For perhaps the barest of seconds, Sephiroth considered the offer. Realistically, they already knew what they were; implants placed specifically to neutralize them in one way or another. Vincent had said as much, and he didn’t really need to know any more than that. Now that he wasn’t handcuffed, he doubted there was much that could keep him from killing everyone in the room if he got angry enough and it just wasn’t worth the risk. He also-in complete honesty-didn’t want to break his somewhat decent mood. It was rare for him to feel genuinely pleased with himself but the meeting had been a complete disaster on Shinra’s end and he took a kind of savage satisfaction from it. He determined-immediately-to apply the same tactics to AVALANCHE to the best of his abilities. The redhead’s offer caught him slightly off-guard once he’d gathered himself enough to consider it. Grudgingly, he had to admit that he didn’t particularly want to go anywhere in HQ that held specific memories...if any memories at all. He was-however-still feeling somewhat rebellious, and there was no one more rebellious in terms of track history than the man in front of him. Tilting his head, he considered the query before speaking.   


“It’s not necessary” he drawled, keeping his eyes fixated on his lover. “Though, I’d like to ask Tuesti, did you take Shinra’s old office?”   


“I didn’t” was the slightly confused reply. “It’s too big, you see. I might be the President, but I’m...not fond of grandeur. Nothing’s been moved out of it yet and-”

“-Good” the former General said shortly, effectively cutting him off. Raising a silver brow, the green-eyed ex-soldier let a smile spread across his face. “Commander, I have this urge to ravish a gorgeous redhead atop a large desk in a ridiculously over-decorated executive suite. Do you have any idea how I could make that happen?”   


Someone was spluttering, but he didn’t look to see who it was.   


The grin he received was nothing short of wicked, the mischievous glint in the eyes that were observing his visage was unmistakable as Genesis stood up, letting red-wreathed lids flutter slowly closed before opening them to give him the same look that made him ever more ravishing before those cerise lips rearranged themselves in a seductive flirtatious smile. “Why, yes Mr. President.” A pale hand rose between them, palm up and waiting for his. “If you’d allow me to lead the way.” Curling his fingers around his partner’s palm, the former General fell into step beside his lover. “I wonder who this lucky redhead is.” Querying cheerfully, the blue-eyed individual didn’t seem to be able to look anywhere else except him, his beautiful azure irises brightened up with the infectious smile that was dancing on those perfect luxurious lips, crinkled softly around the edges. Sephiroth let his thumb stroke over pale knuckles.   


“You know” he murmured quietly. “I think you'd be the perfect man for the job.” Lifting the redhead's hand to his lips, he smiled.   


“Now...always.” 


	8. Chapter Seven

There was no cure.

Sitting in front of Angeal as the new head of the Science Division-the chief lab assistant who had worked under Hojo, based on what his childhood friend had told him-explained the preliminary results for both of them, Genesis had been unable to do anything. Rooted in his place just as he’d been when Hollander had dumped twenty-three-years’ worth of half-truths and harsh facts into his already-addled brain, the scarlet-haired First had watched with disbelieving eyes as the dark-haired General crumbled. In the instant it’d taken for him to blink, the blue-eyed individual who was a couple of months younger than him had aged to become almost as old as Sephiroth’s father, if not more. And he had sat there, unmoving and unsympathetic because it had broken him all over again to hear those words, before pushing for more tests, again and again, over and over, if not for the younger man’s sake but for his own sanity. He’d counted the ever-increasing number of needle puncture marks, hidden it underneath the long sleeves of his shirt; it had been odd to see them stay whilst they used to disappear in a blink of an eye in a whole ‘nother lifetime.

It seemed that Angeal had surprisingly talked Vincent out of attending their recurrent meetings in the labs, and also out of trying to wring relevant information from the poor unfortunate techs who couldn’t possibly hold against his subtle Turk tactics. Genesis hadn’t believed it possible until Sephiroth’s father had barked those words along with the same adjectives that seemed to follow the redhead everywhere-the former Commander really didn’t have any problems with that-and he’d been relieved that the eldest of them didn’t know about how much of an epic fail their experiments had been. His childhood friend had sworn him to keep it from Sephiroth too, and while the redhead had thrown a tantrum, he’d acquiesced in the end; not because he’d wanted to lie to his lover or because it was easy for him to hold it in. It’d been proving more and more difficult to keep it from the silver-haired ex-First, even though his partner never pushed him to divulge what happened during the hours they spent apart, never asked why the sensitive after-effects of a syringe piercing his skin didn’t stop lessening in numbers. Sephiroth had held onto him at night and so had Genesis, as though if they didn’t, the other would crumble to fine diamond dust between their fingers; both of them trying to soothe the other’s frayed nerves, trying to take away the bone-deep weariness and replace it with togetherness. It’d become increasingly difficult to keep sane with all this information burgeoning in a bundle of bad luck over his back.

When Vincent had come to them with the news of AVALANCHE wanting to take Sephiroth away, Genesis had wanted to kill their persistent harbinger of doom, wanted to kill every Shinra employee who’d dare stand in his way before he could drag himself and his lover to the roof or the nearest hole in the wall he’d make so they’d take flight and never return. Obviously, that hadn’t been an option, and he’d been forced to stay and lose his sanity in a disastrous mental breakdown very much alike his partner’s.

When Sephiroth broke down yet again in the corridor, this time in front of the eyes of a throng of black suits that had followed them around HQ, the former Commander had been unable to look; he’d wanted to rush to his partner’s side and try to comfort him. But Angeal had stood rooted in his place, teetering dangerously on the verge of a collapse himself as blue irises followed an invisible ghost across the hallway. And Genesis hadn’t been able to look at his former comrades, hadn’t been able to bear what he saw in their eyes, because it was too familiar, too painful… A twinge of sorrow had stabbed through his heart, hooked itself inside his chest, and it’d taken him minutes to gather himself; well, as much as one could in the time it took for them to reach the conference room. It’d been Vincent then who’d calmed his distressed lover, and Genesis had been at the same time so hateful of the ebon-haired gunslinger for all his years of absence, and at the same time, begrudgingly grateful that he’d been there to comfort Sephiroth when the redhead had been unable to.

The scarlet-haired ex-soldier could only categorize his relationship with his companion’s father under the ‘complicated’ department, which also housed his own relationship with said companion. It was interesting really, how father and son were sometimes alike. And while he’d been trying to work past his childish jealousy, Valentine seemed to be trying just as damnably hard to make an impossible feat out of it. Genesis had acknowledged that it’d probably take him some time to get over the whole thing, but with the constant stream of bad news and negativity that seemed to pour over the walls out of their cell, that seemed to pool at their feet and rise up to drown them, there wasn’t much energy left to pick apart the tangled jumble of knots that was his mentality. At best, he’d place his feelings for the crimson-eyed gunman between absolute hatred and resigned toleration until he could figure more about it. That’s if they were ever granted the luxury of a meager amount of peace, which seemed less and less likely with each passing day.

Despite how grim their day had been since its beginning, with the brief victories he’d gained over the usually stoic gunman who seemed to have decided to let all his restraints loose for once and with Shinra’s board meeting having fallen through-which seemed to have been the source of Sephiroth’s infectious mirth-they’d made their surprisingly jolly way toward the President’s office. Well, after they’d been handed the file Reeve had been talking about by some Turk neither of them had recognized and being told that they had about three hours.

It’d been somewhat surprising that no one had bothered to stop them, but considering that if they did put a bullet in either of them, the other would raze the whole headquarters to the ground, it was probably not worth it. There was also the problem that if they did in fact neutralize them both, people would probably call the news of their deaths a hoax fabricated by Shinra to keep them instead of handing them over; and if that didn’t spell their doom, at the very least everything would spiral into a revolution. It might have also been an act of mercy or apology from the new head of the company.

Regardless, make their way to the President’s office they had; toward the ostentatiously big desk that the President had sat behind the few times Genesis had walked these halls. Everything was in its place, just as Reeve had informed them earlier, from the two big Ficus lyratas in cubic stone vases to the two sets of tall glass monitors on either side of the desk which were now turned off. Situated on the topmost level of Shinra tower and surrounded by panoramic windows at the end of a hallway, with polished granite flooring that mirrored the ceiling, it was a suite almost fit for royalty. The hallway leading up to the desk had three archways descending to a total of six thick rectangular columns, lined with lights on the top and Dypsis lutescens at the bottom in beautiful what-seemed-antique vases. The redhead had nearly knocked one over in his impassioned haste that had resulted into a moment of shock-horror before they’d caught it and subsequently fell into carefree fits of laughter. They’d stopped there on their way, necking and ridding each other of the horrendous garments that Shinra had bestowed them with.

Currently, Genesis didn’t give a flying fuck-as Sephiroth’s father had simply put it-about anything at all; not even the flutter of papers as his hand brushed the cold surface beneath him in its sure ascent to his mouth. ‘Aerith’’s folder fell to the floor, but still the former Commander couldn’t care any less as he tried to stifle the wanton moan that had risen up the back of his throat with biting the side of his palm. Arching against the desk, he cracked his eyes open to gaze heatedly at the silver-haired individual currently standing where the President’s chair was.

“_Sephhh…_” Hot, muffled and trembling, his breath ghosted between the part of his own fingers as his lover’s dexterous ones were currently occupied with brushing against his prostate and unraveling him from the inside out. They’d started building up to where they’d left off back in their cell; covetous touches, ravenous kisses and hooded seductive gazes that promised so many dark things it made Genesis dizzy with desire. Silky silver locks tickled his skin, and the former Commander felt himself tense in a delicious manner as the strands trailed across a sensitive spot over his torso. Sephiroth draped himself over him, effectively smearing the precum that was running down their cocks over their abdomens as he bent over to trace the map of his physicality with a lush burning mouth. Another thrust against that sweet spot, and the redhead didn’t know how coordinated his movements were as he tried to jerk his hips; at the same time trying to chase both the feel of abs dragging along the underside of his erection and the stretch of his entrance around those fingers. An adroit tongue kept circling his left nipple before flicking the stiffened stud of his pebbled flesh, licking hard into the areola as the scarlet-haired man craned his neck to catch a hooded beryl gaze observing his reactions and how he writhed under the younger man with a covetous sort of curiosity. A groan spilled over his lips, the beautiful visage of his lover disappearing as his eyes fluttered inadvertently shut while he pressed an auburn head into the hard surface, exposing the arch of his throat to the ravenous mouth that was driving him insane.

“_Goddess…_” Another somewhat lazy teasing ingress and egress of long digits inside him, and the former Commander was positively delirious, unhinged, totally ravished; and if Sephiroth just let him touch his weeping cock...His hand rose, subconsciously, but when the silver-haired ex-soldier sucked a blooming flower at the base of his neck, the older man forgot what he’d been wanting to do; his digits curled uselessly, hovering in the air before his lover’s fingertips brushed along the underside of his wrist. More pleasure trembled down his spine, and soon long fingers were twining with his, pinning his hand against the wooden surface.

Sephiroth touched him like Genesis was a canvas and he an artist. Every flick, every auscultation of the wrist, every kiss was the pass of a brush wrought of passion. And it was in such passion that emerald irises observed him like he was the most immaculate of masterpieces...as if the younger man was wholly captivated by the artistry he had created. And really, it was something borne from both of them... something cohesive and instinctual transformed from base definition and flung forth with love until it shimmered betwixt them. So when the silver-haired man let go of his hand again...leaned forward ‘till their foreheads were pressed together and caught the former Commander's lips with his own, he could only shiver for it. And he wanted to complain a little bit, because demand was in his nature and his lover was keeping the pace _very _slow...but he couldn't bring himself to. Because more obvious than his impatience was the fact that Sephiroth was making a monumental effort to be tender...to take his needs into consideration. Genesis wasn’t unduly sappy, but he was appreciative, and there was a part of him that _needed _this...this softness in the center of the storm of their desire.

It was a little bit like something new...like they were taking the dust and refuse of what had been and sweeping it away. Gathering up the black remains of a terrible memory and replacing it with something bright and beautiful and clean. Sephiroth murmured something against his mouth, something tender and soft-almost shy-and wholly emotional and the smile that broke over the older man’s lips was almost tremulous in its sentiment. Because it was here that they were made new. Their eagerness for each other was no less, the hands that sought pale skin were no less fervent but there was a quietness to it...just underneath the glittering firth of it all; balanced and sure. Long fingers withdrew from him and Genesis bit his lip to keep himself from moaning with disappointment at the sense of loss. This was quickly ameliorated as the former General’s erection was pressed against him...full and hard and utterly irresistible yet still his partner hesitated. Gentle hands hitched one of his legs up further and the scarlet-haired ex-First opened his eyes to find Sephiroth gazing at him tentatively, a pink tongue flickering over the curve of his lips as they parted.

“...May I?”

Something broke in him then...though not in a bad way. A lingering thread of tension that the blue-eyed man hadn’t acknowledged until then shivered and snapped as that familiar, velvety voice whispered its query...reverently, like his companion was asking for something he wasn’t sure he deserved...something that was so valuable he didn’t dare even consider it without permission. And during any other time Genesis might have gotten frustrated, because they always danced these unsure circles around each other. But now, _now _he understood that Sephiroth was acknowledging his worth, that by asking he was making him his equal-if not more-in import. The man before him was telling him-however subtly-that his body was something that did not deserve disregard, that he was _important _in everything down to the last facet of his physicality.

Parting his mouth to answer, nothing came to him, and it was only Sephiroth who could bring him to this level of ineloquence. Raising himself slightly on his elbow, he reached out with a hand, curling and uncurling his fingers in a _‘come here’ _gesture and watched with that breathless sort of wonder like every other time as the younger ex-First complied. There was the minute drag of his lover’s cock against his entrance, making both of them wince slightly, and the emotion that swelled in Genesis’ chest was so overwhelming that instead of kissing the perfect bow of those lips, he caressed the side of his partner’s face. Feather-light points of contact, reverent and he couldn’t stop ‘Ashayam’ from spilling forth from his soul; trembling and equally tender as his hand cradled a high cheekbone while the redhead kissed a corner of those brilliant emerald eyes he loved so much. And he wanted to say ‘I love you’ but it was so lacking in depth compared to the emotions the unique, fascinating, magnificent and wholly beautiful individual before him evoked within him.

“I adore you.” was a whisper from somewhere deep down, from the depths of the warmth that was engulfing his entire being as their gazes locked after the redhead had brushed a kiss to his lover’s pale temple. “_Yatte… okure yo_...[1]” He whispered in a breathless purr, the Wutain rolling off his tongue as he watched Sephiroth’s visage with keen blue flames.

The younger’s man’s hips jerked at his words, drove the length of him inwards somewhat-deeper-before he was able to discipline himself and hold still. A hot mouth was pressed against his clavicle as the former General trembled above him, his breath coming short through his nose as he reigned in his instinctive desire to push for more. And Genesis could feel the powerful muscles of Sephiroth’s back bunch with the strain...feel the tension in his spine. Silver hair spilled over both of them...like a river of moonlight and the redhead reveled in the weight of it...in the feel of silk-like strands brushing across his physicality. And his former comrade’s arousal was a heavy presence; warm, gratifying, full and desperately intimate. The seconds slipped by, like the dance of starlight across the horizon just before dawn and when Genesis finally murmured his impatience the green-eyed ex-soldier thrust forward with just the slightest hint of desperation and it was a little bit like breathing and drowning at the same time. The explosion of air through his lips, the intrusion of his lover’s cock and the moan that fell from his mouth was nascent...broken.

“You-” Sephiroth shuddered, snapped forward again, drove into the redhead’s prostate and stars burst behind his eyelids. _“Hmm.” _

Like an avalanche...tumbling downwards in a rush and the hot slide of their bodies was intoxicating. He’d _missed _this. And it was strange to admit it because he’d avoided it for so long...told himself he didn’t want it for so long. But there was no denying the way his physicality opened for his partner, the manner in which it felt _whole. _Lost, he buried his fingers in the fall of platinum locks, pulled until his lover acquiesced to the gesture and the kiss was desperate-somewhat sloppy-and Sephiroth was groaning into his mouth, his eyes half-lidded and glazed and _Gaia._ A hand dug into his ass cheeks, tilting him backwards on the desk as the former General began a steady rhythm that had whatever remaining implements on the wooden surface rattling and it was _good. _A little bit sweet, a little bit animalistic and it was so much of everything they were...everything they had been. And the younger man was pressed against him like he wanted to crawl inside of him-never come out-and he deliriously acknowledged that-at the moment-he wouldn’t really mind it.

_“Genesis…” _

His name spoken in that velvety voice was like a buoy in the sea of desire and sensation he was drowning in, and he couldn’t help but hearken to it, wholly, with his body and his soul. Nails scrabbling across the wood to find the edge of the surface so he could hold on, so he could lever himself somewhat and push back against the powerful hips that snapped forward right then; Sephiroth’s cock burying itself inside him to the hilt. The way they had slammed into each other, the way everything rattled dangerously on the desk and the loud groan that ripped itself from his own throat, it all rushed down his spine in a rapid torrent of pleasure… Too much and yet, not enough, even as it slowed down in a steady trickle of translucence down the length of his own straining arousal to pool at its base.

“_Kamigami… Sefirosu, ware ni fu-_” another thrust that sent him reeling with euphoria, making him close his eyes shut as his breath escaped him through parted lips; had him throwing his head back and dishevel the mess of his already unruly tresses. “-_fakkushiro.[2]_”

When Sephiroth’s fingertips brushed the head of his cock teasingly, Genesis felt like he might actually explode. Trailing down, over the slit, before slightly pressing inwards, and lower still; over frenulum, and the litany of loud exhalations the silver-haired man was coaxing from him that back-ended into moans wasn’t voluntary at all. Opening his eyes as their rhythm petered out, the redhead found a pair of beryl irises that could have as well been on fire gazing at him, a strange look swirling in their desirous depths. It took him a moment to realize that he’d gotten a reaction for speaking Wutain, which was kind of interesting because it was rare for Sephiroth to be so forward about his kinks. Not that this was particularly _forward _in terms of anyone else he might have slept with but it was forward in terms of the former General. The younger man’s ocular fixation was zeroed in on his lips, which curved into an almost-smug smile as he repeated his final phrase from before. And it was with a kind of carnal delight that he watched black pupils widen...as that beautiful mouth parted somewhat and a flush that was entirely different suffused pale cheeks. His companion tilted his head to kiss him gently, almost supplicatingly, and when Genesis gave voice to such vociferation again the silver-haired man groaned quietly.

_Oh yes. _

Sephiroth’s next thrust was a hard, spine shivering thing...like the inward surge of a wave that danced upwards from his sacrus to his splenius capitis. A hot tongue plunged into the cavern of his mouth; like his partner could somehow draw the lush mystery of such verbiage from the redhead’s lungs and hold it between them. Peripatetic...those fingers...touching him as if they simply couldn’t seek enough, as if every aspect of his physicality was something new...each pass more enthralling than the last. The younger man always made love like it was an altruistic thing, like he wanted to constantly give more than he would receive; but this was all fervor with that undertone of meticulous focus and the former Commander wanted to keep it...catch it and possess it until nothing else remained. Long, _deep _undulations of powerful hips, the sense of powerful fulfillment...the thump of frenetic pulse. Genesis rose with it, heard the shallow but desperate noises that seemed to get stuck just behind his vocal fold; clutched at the surface beneath them with thoughtless, scrabbling fingers. His eyelids were heavy, wanton things that he was fighting a constant battle with to stay open...to keep his eyes fixated on the individual coming apart before him instead of sliding shut to give themselves to shivering bliss. And he knew when Sephiroth was about to come-knew it before he parted his lips to tell him-felt it as the linearity of his erection swelled within him...became a greater wealth that drove pressure into his prostate and had him saying something utterly obscene into a thick swatch of silver hair. The younger man slowed to hold himself off, exhaled heavily against his shoulder. The redhead made a somewhat strangled noise of vexation and that head of moonlit silk shook back and forth slightly.

“Have to s-slow down” his partner slurred. “G-going to come.”

Lying back, his fingers tangled themselves inside the angry halo of moonlight tresses that trickled over their physicalities and onto the surface beneath him, tracing mindless yet probably soothing patterns over the younger man’s scalp. In those pauses between their heavy slowly steadying exhalations, Genesis listened…and it felt like those infinitesimal moments were like thawing droplets of diamond hanging from icy garlands on the edge of a windowsill. Staring at the ceiling for several hazy moments, he raised himself somewhat only to nearly slump back down as Sephiroth busied himself with pinching and biting gently on his nipples. “S-so...huuhhh…” He felt himself clench around the girth of his partner’s cock, vaguely registered the quiet ragged groan as the silver-haired man repeated the same gesture again to be rewarded with the same involuntary reaction. The redhead simply lost all semblances of coherent thought then, and for a moment, it seemed that it was him who was going to come, his orgasm growing inside him like an all-encompassing wave of heat. He could hear the first syllable of his lover’s name falling over his lips like an urgent mantra before long fingers circled the base of his cock, and the tidal wave that had risen up within him subsided somewhat.

Slumping back and trembling, both from the rush of pleasure and the delightful sheen of sweat that had broken over his skin, he felt himself sober enough to make a somewhat coherent sentences. “So come.” He echoed from the time he’d first made love to the silver-haired man who was currently catching his breath, his strong palms sweeping up and down Genesis’ sides in firm broad strokes that made his skin break out in goosebumps and sent tiny meandering tornadoes down his spine. Sephiroth was positively hellbent on making him delirious, probably to stop him from exploiting this new found kink. The younger ex-First was positively trying to drive both of them crazy, drawing out almost all the way until only the head of his arousal was inside the redhead; outer still, and the teasing stretch of his entrance at the egress and sudden ingress of his girthy cock was so much of a delightful sensation that Genesis couldn’t say no to. So when he opened his mouth again, he had to close it again because he simply couldn’t stop to make sense out of his short-circuited thought processes while he threw his head back and moaned; loud and wanton. Finally finding his breath again as he opened his eyes to gaze heatedly inside those green green irises that were watching him with that impossible gorgeous expression, the former Commander _wanted…_ Wanted to kiss those perfect lips, but then Sephiroth would probably have to stop, and… “_Ya...huhhh… yamenaide[3]… Don’t… you dare… stop._”

He didn’t stop.

When Genesis provided him with yet another window into his Wutain vocabulary those green eyes went wide. His partner looked-in that moment-entirely and deliriously captivated. He gave a full body shudder that the redhead felt down to the tips of his toes and then blanketed himself over the former Commander as much as he could considering their position. The silver-haired man’s movements slowly morphed into a series of hard, fast thrusts and he couldn’t help the triumphant grin that spread over his face before it was quickly replaced with an expression of ecstacy. Because he was _absolutely _going to utilize that kink in the future to the fullest degree; maybe even with Sephiroth on the bottom. The idea of it was nearly enough to make him orgasm right there and right then, but he held on by some miraculous remainder of restraint. Because the former General was beautiful at the pinnacle of his pleasure and he wanted to see it...wanted to drink it in until there was nothing left. Sephiroth stiffened, murmured something slightly desperate and the redhead made an encouraging, breathy noise in response.

_“Gen-!”_

Tension...a glorious sort of imminent tension and the older man let one of his hands snake under an armpit to trail down his former comrade’s side to palm his ass...to feel the bunch of muscles beneath epidermis. Lithe hips followed through with a series of erratic thrusts before the silver-haired ex-soldier drove deep-hard-and then stilled and exhaled in a garbled rush. That perfect mouth fell open and Genesis was helpless to lean upwards to catch it, to let his tongue flicker over the edge of trembling lips as his own climax rose to grip him by the throat. The muscles in his abdomen clenched as Sephiroth involuntarily drove forward again, and with the ingress of his own orgasm-the desirous fire that roared through his physicality-it was just on the edge of overstimulation. Not too much, and definitely not too little...just straddling that fine line between pleasure and pain. The younger man shuddered, as if he too was experiencing the same manner of bliss, and the blue-eyed ex-soldier tangled his hands in that beautiful hair and gave himself to ecstasy as they lost themselves in one another.

“I love you.” The phrase was murmured, open-mouthed against his cheek before Sephiroth drew back to look at him; all flush, glossy sweat and erratic breath. “Thank you.”

Genesis could vaguely feel himself smile, a tiny lopsided breathless thing as he descended from the heights of his ecstasy, the afterglow of his rapture still coursing through his veins and slowly receding from his pleasure-sensation-suffused brain. Not coherent and eloquent enough to come up with an answer, he tilted his head to press a kiss to a temple shrouded in a curtain of silvery hair. His fingertips were tracing a lazy distracted pattern along his lover’s lean well-built sides and back before they detangled themselves from each other. Rising slowly, unsteadily to a sitting position and still perched on top of the desk, his hand found itself settled on a side of the strong and magnificent column of Sephiroth’s neck, his thumb caressing the smooth pearlescent skin as he took in the sight of that gorgeous visage. The former Commander didn’t know-and frankly didn’t care-how long they were like that, almost frozen in a frame of time and space save for the minute affectionate gestures as he tried committing to memory every single mesmerizing detail of his paramour’s face; from the exquisite bows of silver lashes to those slightly flushed high cheekbones that could cut glass and those perfect lips that could make him and break him at the same time. And when emerald oceans met his azure ones, Genesis could hold their intense affectionate gaze for only an instant and not a moment more, before he had to look away, a hot sensation burning in his eyes which he tried to blink away while he ducked his head. Tried to bury his face in a waterfall of molten silver before drawing the younger man near in a somewhat too tight embrace. Because how much he loved this man, uncountable like the number of the diamonds adorning the indigo dome of the welkin at night… innumerable like the number of fine specs of sand in all the shores across Gaia, and the thought of losing him, as far-fetched as it was, was enough to break him to as many countless pieces. Trying to breathe in order to calm his suddenly virulent thoughts, and to fill his lungs with the scent that was Sephiroth’s and Sephiroth’s alone, he held onto the former General as though he’d disappear like a phantasm of a vivid memorable dream if he let go.

“I love you.” was a tremulous whisper, on the verge of being broken by the nuances of hysteria.

And the manner in which those hands gently drew him back, rose up to frame his face...lithe fingers stroking over his cheekbones didn’t help him in the least. Because sometimes it felt like he was the only person in the world who knew this side of Sephiroth...and he likely was. It was one of the reasons he was so singularly angry with Vincent, because his partner just gave and gave and _gave _and no one ever seemed to see it except for him. And he could be disgustingly stubborn, inherently spiteful and entirely impossible but he was also sweet and a little bit unintentionally romantic in a way that was adorably awkward. So when Genesis opened his eyes to look at the man before him it was with the knowledge that the former General was giving yet again at the risk of high cost. And he was giving for both of them, for the sake of their relationship, for the sake of them being able to go home.

“Everything is going to be fine” Sephiroth murmured, pressing their foreheads together. When the older man made an irritable, unconvinced noise he huffed softly and pulled away. “Genesis” he said firmly. “There is nothing AVALANCHE can do to me that hasn’t been done before, not at this point. And I’m not going to let them use me like Shinra used me. They will _know _that I’m there simply by my own benevolence and nothing else. I won’t be dragged around like a ragdoll or torn to shreds, I’m not going to allow it. I won’t dishonor you by letting myself get hurt, I won’t disregard your value for me-my value in terms of _myself-_for the sake of keeping the peace. And I won’t be cowed by a yelling crowd.” A soft, somewhat teasing sort of smile spread over his face. “_You’re _the only one who gets the privilege of yelling at me. I’m not going to let a crowd of fanatics circumvent that privilege.” 

Meeting his lover’s eyes, he let a long-suffering endearing smile stretch across his lips, genuine and overflowing with the emotions that were reserved only for the individual before him. Cradling the sides of that pale face in a gesture mirroring Sephiroth’s, he spoke quietly. “I’ll hold you to it.” A brief pause, before he repeated firmly. “I’ll hold you to it until we’re finally home. And don’t even _think _about doing anything, even if it’s falling into insanity, alone. We’re in this together, no matter what. And if we got separated, if anything happened, come to me,” His eyes fluttered closed as he kissed his partner's forehead reverently. “Here.”

Pulling back, he observed the former General with flames of determination in his eyes. Raising a hand, palm up, in a silent question for agreement, Genesis raised an eyebrow. “Let’s get this over with.”

There were a thousand unspoken words behind the gesture. There was the singular fact that both of them knew that none of this was so simple. Additionally, there was also the facet of truth that neither of them were patient or tolerant individuals save for a few people...and only when the fancy struck them hardest. Still, the younger man took his fingers within his own...slender digits accepting his wordless query with a grace that only he could muster. And when Sephiroth drew his hand up, turned it so that he could press his lips to the inside of his wrist it took everything he had to not to beg the younger man to just give this up, to walk away. Because this-what was between them-it was _too valuable _to risk for the sake of something so small. The logical part of him knew that this was necessary, but the instinctual part of him wanted to run far away and never look back. And the instinctual part of him was stronger now, because of his time in Deepground, because of everything that had happened before. Sephiroth was no better...he knew. But they had to face this together, and reticence had no place between them anymore.

They dressed silently, both too wrapped up in their own thoughts to really muster up any sort of qualitative conversation. Genesis caught the shirt the former General tossed at him out of habit...watched as the silver-haired man pulled the khaki fatigues he'd thrown to the side over long legs. The rustle of fabric, the snap of belt buckles and a dull **_*thump*_** when the redhead's former comrade dropped his boot. The lack of speech was needed, because each of them would need to play their roles in this to a degree that they hadn't in a long time. And Genesis was accustomed to utilizing his mask...so was Sephiroth...but the stakes had never really been so high before...the price of failure had never been so steep. And when Sephiroth looked over at him with icy, closed off emerald eyes he wanted to scream. Because they should _not _have to do this…

…But they did.

Thusly, they went back the way they had come, the shuffle of baggy pants and the muted thud of the soles of their boots against the permanent red carpet of polished stone on the floor, and then down a flight of stairs as he walked behind Sephiroth. His partner didn’t say anything, silver hair swaying in front of him after he handed the folder to the Turk who scrambled to follow them as they made their way to the elevator. And Genesis had to grit his teeth as he thought he caught a glimpse of a flowing black trench coat, as he heard the unmistakable creak and flutter of leather around his own frame, a memorial ghost passed them by with a curt nod and a whisper of ‘General, Commander.’ before disintegrating and disappearing in a nonexistent wind like a faint trail of a brush smearing paint across a canvas. With a deep breath, the former Commander turned his gaze straight ahead, dragged the facade back up on his face, shoulders back, chest out, _hup, two, three, four…_ Azure eyes iced over, cold, chin held high, arrogant, dispassionate and the hint of an ever-present decadent sneer just shy of twisting his lips. They walked as they always had, into the elevator that brought them to the lobby of the building even though it was probably still early.

Vincent and Angeal weren’t there yet. It didn’t matter. It was meaningless in the grand scheme of things.

Sephiroth tilted his head infinitesimally, looking at him over his shoulder through a curtain of silvery tresses.

Handcuffs.

The redhead could feel eyes at their backs likely waiting for their retaliation, but they stared straight ahead at the entrance, and for a moment Genesis thought he heard an apologetic whisper before it got lost behind the jingle of chains and the clink of a lock, again, as the gesture was repeated around his lover’s strong slender wrists. The former Commander couldn’t help but reach out, an uneasy feeling slithering up his spine like a cold black serpent, thick with dread and making him choke on his own breath. It was slightly awkward as he tried intertwining their fingers, drew from his diminished reserves of magic, and it was significantly harder than what it had been in another lifetime, but he managed it. Because he had to, he _needed to. _The tingling sensation expanding from his extremities, and it seemed the air was suffused with ether around the silver-haired former General as the fiery ex-soldier finished casting a Wall.

Gazing into questioning beryl irises as platinum brows furrowed slightly, Genesis smiled slightly before the expression faded away in the winds that were picking up speed inside him. Detangling their hands, he turned to look ahead, _hup, two, three, four… _heedless of the protest of the Turk who had cuffed them he strode forward, through the entrance and finally…

He couldn’t stop his eyelids from fluttering closed as a breeze tousled his red hair, couldn’t stop tilting his head back slightly as he relished the feel of the warm rays of the setting sun across his face. There were steps behind him, and he didn’t need to look to know who it was, he knew that gait anywhere with his eyes closed. But he did turn around, and the sight that met his irises was absolutely breathtaking in the same manner everything about Sephiroth was…

_Gorgeous._

Ribbons of silver danced across a strikingly handsome visage with the breeze before ivory digits pulled them back and behind a pale ear. His lover came to stand beside him behind the gates of the courtyard of Shinra company, both of them enjoying the silence between them against the backdrop of ambient noise. The urge to intertwine their fingers as they awaited for their new captors was really hard to resist, but still they stood, side by side, not as General and Commander, but as equals, as two men who would stop at nothing when it came to them. They were in this together, for better or worse, and nothing, _nothing _could break them apart.

They would weather this storm like any other.

They would drink this cup to its lees.

And go home.

Together.

* * *

Fuhito almost couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to get both Sephiroth and Genesis. He’d asked for one, and instead got two. This, if nothing beside making it somewhat more difficult to handle them if things were to go awry, cleared some of his suspicions. He was never one to believe in the media, especially when it was sponsored by Shinra, but it seemed that either the new Company didn’t care about Genesis Rhapsodos to the degree that they’d thrown him into the bargain without even telling them, or the former starred First Classes were really lovers. Considering that they seemed to follow each other everywhere, from incarceration to exile, it made sense.

The bespectacled scientist couldn’t stop the smirk that tugged at his lips, because this opened a whole new set of possibilities for him. Because now, if he couldn’t persuade the duo to switch to his side of the battle, maybe he could _break _them into acquiescing to his demands.

They had searched them thoroughly for hidden weapons, for materia, tracking devices, microphones, but came up empty handed, as they should have. It was interesting to see Shinra keeping up their side of the deal. Though, there was the matter of the Wall surrounding the silver-haired former General…

Its presence had made itself known when an idiot from the crowd that had gathered around them when they’d made their way to the gates of the Shinra tower had attempted to assassinate Sephiroth in a poorly executed manner. It was an interesting unfolding of events to behold, both on their side of the gate and the other side. Shears’ men had quickly found the culprit and disarmed him, the bullet ricocheting off the minutely visible barrier and their swift attempt at keeping their side of the bargain dissuading any other fools who might have had the same plan in mind. On Shinra’s side however, Valentine had moved to deflect the bullet from the silver-haired former General before Rhapsodos had pulled him back, and it confirmed his suspicions about the former Turk having personal ties within the company, and quite possibly to their former poster boy. It was hard to ignore-especially when the duo had been standing beside one another-the uncanny similarities between the crimson-eyed man and their prized hostage whom Fuhito was currently about to visit inside their base. There was also the fact that the red-caped ex-Turk was always there defending the former Firsts’ cases with a passion that was only rivaled by Angeal Hewley’s.

Shaking his head wasn’t enough to push the smirk away from his face. Things were definitely taking an amusing turn.

They’d held Sephiroth and Genesis hostage for a couple of days now.

He was walking on the metal grate catwalk toward the room they held the silver-haired ex-soldier in. Approaching Rhapsodos with his proposal for joining his side had been an utter failure, and it had confused him, because why wouldn’t he? Didn’t the redhead hate Shinra for whatever they had done to them? Trying to coax an answer out of the blue-eyed former Commander had been just as futile, because all he’d received was a ‘Fuck you and your cause’ before the scarlet-haired man had almost turned into a statue were it not for the steady rise and fall of his chest where he sat cuffed to the chair. It had forced his hand to move to his backup plan.

Thankfully, he had enough time to see the schemes he’d devised in his head come to fruition without anyone disturbing him. Aside from a squad of their men and his personal squad of Ravens, the rest of their numbers were still at their main base, along with Elfe and her inseparable shadows, Aerith and Shears. Their flower girl had asked for a meeting with the former General which Fuhito had been unable to refuse, just because his curiosity had gotten the better of him. The last of the Cetras was scheduled to come visit along with the head of their movement in less than hour.

It gave him enough time.

Fixing his spectacles on the bridge of his nose, he stood in front of Sephiroth’s cell. “Wait here.” Calling over his shoulder to the men following him, he slid the heavy key inside the rusty yet reinforced door, turning the cold handle before stepping inside the room, and swinging the thick slab of metal on its hinges ‘till it closed with a resounding clang. It was an exact mirror of the room Rhapsodos was in. A small cot that wasn’t exactly comfortable-they had limited resources-a somewhat enclosed area for basic hygienic amenities-minus a shower-and a chair where the former General sat, his wrists bound to the sides of the backrest of his seat.

It was hard work getting them ready for these meetings, which was why he could only manage one at a time because he had to send all of his men inside the cell to get their hostages to acquiesce to being manacled for the duration of their interrogation, visit, whatever they wanted to call it. None of these mattered in the long run, as long as he managed to accomplish his end game.

“General Sephiroth.” Training his eyes on the visage of the silver-haired man, he added. “Or should I call you Sephiroth Valentine, _sir?_”

There was a flicker-just the barest hint-across those impassive features. It wasn’t enough to be called an emotion, but it was enough to be called a reaction. This didn’t tell himself anything more than he’d suspected before, but he was happy enough to _get _a reaction out of the man before him at all. Because like his redheaded former comrade, the silver-haired individual was just as unforthcoming and taciturn. He was-admittedly-far less _angry _about it than Rhapsodos was, but he wasn’t any friendlier either. Up close, his mind found it somewhat hard to conscience that this was the same man who had slaughtered a significant portion of the population. Reputation aside, Sephiroth was young...both of them were too young to be criminal masterminds and while he knew that the evidence pointed otherwise, it was still difficult to believe. And maybe it wasn’t so much that they were villains as much it was that they were powerful individuals given an exorbitant amount of responsibility and emotional burden at the peril of others. Regardless...none of that mattered...none of it _would _matter in due time.

“Funny.” Fuhito blinked and refocused on the individual before him. The former General didn’t meet his eyes, but the clench of his jaw was telling. “It’s funny how people like you think that throwing terms like _‘General’ _and _‘sir’ _into the mix are going to get me to like you better.” Green eyes finally met his, and they were so cold he could almost _feel _them. “Shinra did that too...and look what happened to them.”

The threat was very clear.

Grudgingly, the scientist admitted that-coming from the person in question-it was also a very _real _threat, but he didn’t allow himself to be cowed by it. Truthfully, it was the kind of reaction he wanted, he just didn’t want it directed towards him. Admittedly, he didn’t _need _Sephiroth on his side for his plans to come into fruition, but it would be ideal. Despite the powers he would be working with, the green-eyed ex-soldier was still a significant threat, and while he didn’t think he’d be able to stop things completely...he could considerably slow them down. Fuhito didn’t mind delay because he’d been working with delays for what felt like a monumental part of his existence, but setbacks now were irritating...unnecessary really, and he would avoid them if possible.

“So bitter.” The older man mused. “Of course, I can’t really blame you...considering everything Shinra did to you...to your...friend.” He let the comment dangle, not because he wanted an answer, but because he wanted a reaction. When he wasn’t proffered anything he wasn’t particularly surprised. “I’ll admit, I was surprised to hear that the company we so relied on could sink to such levels.” Tilting his head, he raised an eyebrow. “However, I am _more _surprised to see that you’re still working with them despite it.”

This time, those emerald irises caught his and held them. It wasn’t a benevolent expression...no...more wary and suspicious.

“What do you want?” was the flat query.

It was amusing how unaware Sephiroth was of his likeness to Valentine, Fuhito mused. Their manner of speech, the way they spoke. They _had _to be related in one way or another, but Vincent was far too young-looking for him to consider parentage. They could...of course...be siblings. The idea of it was strange but not unbelievable. The bespectacled scientist put the concept aside for later consideration, choosing instead to open his mouth to continue.

“Join us.” He said smoothly. “Stand for our cause and when the time comes, you can have your revenge.”

He’d expected rage...somewhat...though to what end he couldn’t guess. The dark-haired man had also expected derision and incredulity, and he got a little bit of that but not to the degree that he had anticipated. Sephiroth straightened, a strand of silver hair falling over his visage as he looked at him in surprise. Pale fingers twitched minutely before falling open once more. And then, the younger man bowed his head and laughed. It was a quiet thing, something indeterminably weary but also decidedly scornful. And Fuhito wanted to _rage _because this was _not _what he was aiming for...mockery was not something he was aiming for but it was what he was being given. Green eyes crinkled somewhat at the corners before the former First straightened and regained himself.

“Did you really think that it was going to be that easy?” He asked, a thin vein of humor lacing his tone. “Is that why you offered to drag us out here instead of facing execution? Because you thought you could get one or both of us to _join _you?” Silver brows furrowed in an expression of cynical bewilderment. “Why would I forgo one cause to join another? Why would I hand you the shackles Shinra placed around my wrists just so you could put them right back where they were before?”

That much he had suspected, however it wasn’t what he’d been hoping for. At least, it wasn’t an outright refusal, and maybe, just maybe he could find a way to contend with the former General before he had to resort to his backup plan. “There are no shackles when you can lead the movement among the rest of us.” Pushing up the bridge of his glasses with a forefinger, he started walking around the chair in the middle of the small room. “What we are aiming for is a much _freer _world. And isn’t that why you’re both here? To get back that semblance of freedom you had in your exile?” A pause long enough for him to return to his original place in front of the younger man. “Aren’t you tired of Shinra being constantly at your back with the threat of execution for something they would commit regardless if the need arose? And they would justify it with morality, with reasons like the past government did. Call it in the name of justice, in the name of public safety while they’re not heeding the words of the population.” Clasping his hands behind his back, Fuhito tried to choose his words carefully, because giving away too much would be just as detrimental as not giving enough in his situation. And while it was obvious both of the individuals in their custody held resentment toward the company, it wasn’t enough of a motivator for them to act against it, or consider another course of action rather than compliance to the decrees that had been passed on them. And maybe that was the right angle to push. “You and your friend are both derisive of the concept of servitude and yet by conforming to the decrees Shinra passes on you, you’re still accepting to be shackled into it?”

The bespectacled scientist decided that this was the last chance he was giving the silver-haired individual in front of him. If his questions and the amount of information he’d divulged wasn’t enough to at least make the former General consider his offer without being scornful and contemptuous, then so be it. Of course, things would have been a lot easier with these two men standing beside him than against him, but world wasn’t prone to give him the results he always hoped for.

“And what can you give us that Shinra hasn’t already?” Sephiroth countered, his lip curling. “How do you expect the people to fold to your whims with the two of us behind you? Aren’t _you _betraying your people by offering us respite? Will they be so easy to forgive you if you bring us into the fold? What makes their benevolence for you greater than it is for the regime Genesis and I stood for? What makes you think you can keep us safer?” When Fuhito stared at him, momentarily stymied, he smirked. “You can’t. You see, that’s the thing...Genesis and I don’t want to _‘fall in line’ _or ‘rally for a greater good.’ Neither of us care about the greater good. We care about getting as far away from this as we can, for as long as we can. Administration has given us something all our own...leagues away from whoever or whatever might want to harm us. And it’s true that we were...temporarily moved back to HQ for reasons unbeknownst to yourself, but that was consensual and we weren’t going to stay forever...the reason we’re _here _following Shinra’s orders is _because _of you.” A wry expression. “Why on earth would I want to join the cause that created this problem in the first place?”

It was...unexpected.

With a sense of sincere disappointment, Fuhito acknowledged that had he known of the younger man’s contempt for humanity, he would have utilized it to its fullest extent. Now...he couldn’t. Not without sounding like an indecisive hypocrite. And it was a little bit ironic that he was standing in the same room with someone who might have at least understood his cause to some extent...even if he might not have agreed with the endgame. Sephiroth understood the sins of humanity, knew the cost at which they came and the grief they mitigated in their wake. There was a good chance that Genesis did as well...and he cursed himself for being so blind to their nonchalance...because it _wasn’t _nonchalance...not in the sense that he had interpreted it anyway. No, Rhapsodos and the former General _did not care..._at all. As far as they were concerned, this was a field trip. The dourness of it was almost staggering in its hilarity because, really, his approach had been doomed from the beginning. And by utilizing an appeal to their kindnesses, he had effectively wiped all other avenues of opportunity straight off the map.

“Oh, Doctor.” Sephiroth purred, a wicked kind of light kindling in his eyes. “Did you play your cards too soon?” And the way he leaned forward-like an apex predator waiting for the right opportunity-the manner in which he cocked his head in a purely animalistic way reminded him who _exactly _he was dealing with. “Or,” The younger man continued, sneering. “Did you just play the wrong _hand?” _

And it was interesting to acknowledge that just as he had gotten a rise out of the silver-haired ex-soldier, now the former General was the one behind the sudden feeling of anger that rose up in him, but it would never reach the surface. It seemed that the tables had turned and he’d been beaten at his own game. For a brief moment, he wondered if exploiting what he’d perceived as a relationship between their would actually work in his favor instead of his detriment for once. After all, Sephiroth was currently weaponless and bound, and were he to get violent, as strong as he was, he was still just a man, one, against the many of his.

This didn’t assuage the disappointment he felt however, and the sigh that escaped him was the only indication of how he sincerely regretted not going for that angle. Well, maybe he could make his motives known after the younger man could see how far he was willing to go to fulfill the vision he had. “It’s such a shame.” The bespectacled scientist offered, to both of them, before continuing. “Consensual or not… I’m sorry to be the one to show you just how much of a mistake it was for both of you to leave your _safe haven_ to come to Shinra after all.” Green eyes were still watching him with that malicious look, as though not considering his words to be nothing but bluffs.

Well, bluff or not, he couldn’t afford to lose before trying all the options provided to him.

Turning his back to the former General, he opened the door, stepped over the threshold and gestured for the men who were standing outside to bring forward their charge. He very much wanted to see the expression on his adversary’s face now as the redhead stood just inside the door, with his hands tied behind his back and a blindfold covering his eyes. Fuhito didn’t wait to see if recognition of any sort flashed on the younger man’s visage before his subordinate shot the Genesis copy who was now clad in the original’s garbs in the head. The body dropped to the ground with a sickening thud that was making it really hard to push down the urge to smirk. “Maybe this would help you make your decision easier then. After all, it seems that there were only two people who could actually understand the workings and sins of humanity beside me. Unfortunately now, that leaves the two of us.” Observing Sephiroth’s reaction to this, he spoke.

It seemed like seconds after the words died on his lips that something in him whispered that this, too, was a mistake. The former General’s reaction was satisfactory...but it was a momentary feeling. The blood drained from that alabaster face, and the shock that twisted it was an ugly thing...wrought with a terrible pain that-if he were anyone else-he might have felt guilty for. The strangled, wounded noise that crept up from the pale column of a throat confirmed his suspicions about the nature of their relationship. It was feral, wrought with emotion...so much emotion. Long fingers trembled...went loose...trembled again and emerald eyes glittered with aqueous grief...unshed by the merest remainders of restraint. What was more apparent-and what _concerned _him-was the aura of resignation that seemed to surround the younger man. Like this had happened before...like he had seen this before him during a different time. And it worried him because it meant that his ruse could only go so far...that there would come a tipping point when the younger man would figure everything out.

Sephiroth moved.

Only he didn’t. In actuality, he seemed to dissolve. Black, slithering tendrils of something smokey and unnameable suffused his form...traveled up his torso to envelop him in a wave of velvet night...as if he had never been. For a moment, he was concerned that the darkness would continue to sweep forward...that it would rise like a wave of noir to swallow everything in its path...but it didn’t. Instead, there was the sound of a great coalescence of air...like it was all concentrated on one point in the room before a faint popping noise ended the spectacle so quickly it was like it had never occurred. And Fuhito was left staring at an empty chair wondering how he could have been so _foolish _to assume that they-that _he-_had the control. Because of course Shinra wasn’t going to tell them all of their proteges’ secrets...of course they were going to find ways to keep their assets safe. He couldn’t ruminate on it, however, because Sephiroth reappeared just as quickly as he had gone, tumbled out of a cloud of inky sky to crumble next to the body on the ground. And the silver-haired man was _shaking, _shaking as if he was coming apart at the seams and that the only thing that had stopped him from doing so before was the individual before him.

_“Genesis…” _

Broken...a whispered title and it was as if the Demon of Wutai was letting starlight roll off his tongue to spill into the air. Long fingers reached out to card through scarlet locks, a head of silver hair bending until both of them were obscured. Those digits crept down a pale arm...inched along the wrist before spreading out at a palm...upwards…over proximal and middle phalanx to traverse the distal…

Sephiroth froze.

Those seeking fingers pressed down, almost as if searching for something. The sense of foreboding increased as he did so. A shudder ran along that powerful body; once-twice...and then silence reigned once more. The older man was left half-triumphant and half-apprehensive, poised on the brink of something that could be both wonderful and terrible. Because if he couldn’t have his way through reason, he would have it through cruelty. And by his logic, the individual before him was traumatized enough to fold to him...if he could embody the cruelty of the man who had come before him...the man who he admired so much. And he _wanted _to be like him, wanted to be able to make his decisions without objectifying them. Wanted to be able to take what he desired and damn the consequences and what those consequences would mean for others. He would serve the Planet and no one else, and those who stood in his way had a right to fear and hate them because he would _take _what they refused to give.

And then...Sephiroth laughed.

It was an ugly thing. Dark, deep, and so angry it seemed to shake the very earth beneath them. Frowning, the bespectacled man mentally scrambled to make sense of it...but it was too late. That head of silver hair whipped around to look at him and there was a hungry, riotous grin stretched across perfect features; _murder _in those eyes. More prominent than that, however, was a kind of unhinged relief...and borne on the black wings of that relief was _revenge._ With a jolt of shock, Fuhito acknowledge that the ex-soldier had already figured out his game. _How _he didn’t know, only that he had, and now he was running out of time. The silver-haired man _‘tsked’ _and it was a spine-shuddering thing, filled with a kind of dark purpose he didn’t care to ruminate on.

“Doctor.” Shinra’s former finest said, his tone mockingly light. “There appears to be something wrong with your patient.” The twisted grin on those angelic features melted into a sneer, and when the younger man spoke again, his voice was a growl. “You see, he’s not _real.” _

Sephiroth lunged.

For an infinitesimal moment, Fuhito honestly feared that everything had come to an abrupt end on his part. His goal, his life, everything. But just as quickly, he moved, slamming the door shut, though he didn’t wait to see if the silver-haired man reappeared out of thin smoke on the other side. Down below he could see Elfe and Aerith just emerging through the entrance followed by a group of their men. “Run! Elfe! Aerith!” The scientist called, watched as the two brunettes’ eyes darted to him before the leader of the AVALANCHE dragged their flower girl right the way they had come. The sentence that he was running out of time kept repeating in his head, and he couldn’t help but acknowledge that he’d never felt fear before but the silver-haired individual who was probably after him had managed to coax that emotion out of his strict stoic personality. The sound of thundering feet over metal grating as the two squadrons he had under his command rushed past him to deal with their hostages-gone-rogue and his own feet as he descended the staircase to quickly join Elfe who was waiting for him at the entrance was drowned by the rush of blood in his ears.

“What happened?” The white-caped girl asked him urgently, ushering him to the now empty van before sitting tight behind the wheel and flooring the accelerator.

Fuhito couldn’t believe the state he was in, utterly unlike who he always was, totally calm and collected, but it wouldn’t stay long. He couldn’t afford to lose. That was the mantra he was trying to substitute the pessimist voice inside him with. “Shinra lied to us.” He said after he’d caught his breath. “We never held them captive. It was an illusion that we were in control. Sephiroth… He…” The scientist tried to go over what had happened back in the cell over and over again. “It was something I had never seen. He disappeared in a cloud of smoke and teleported out of the chair we’d bound him to.” There was a pause, a heavy moment of silence as all three of them pondered. He was indeed running out of time, and the more he dithered, and the more Elfe drove them closer to their main base, it was more probable that the plan he’d devised for so long would never come to fruition. So, he had to think quickly and act just as fast, that was why when he continued, he tried to be as believable and as close to his confident self as it was possible. “Aerith’s mother is in danger. This was just a ruse for getting her back to Shinra, and who better to send than Sephiroth and Genesis.”

There was the reverse acceleration, and he nearly cracked his forehead open on the dashboard as Elfe braked hard. “What are you saying? We need to go back! I-...”

“You can fight Sephiroth alone, probably stand your ground really well, but to what end? There’s also his redheaded _friend_. We can use the time they’re probably busy dispatching all the men we left back there to save someone who-...”

“-It’s Aerith’s call.” The blue-eyed brunette interjected, looking over at Aerith who was sitting on the other side of him in the passenger seat.

“We’re going to save my mother.”

This was spoken without hesitation, a fierce look in aquamarine eyes and Fuhito had to work hard to suppress the triumph in his chest from spreading to his face. It was a momentary thing-of course-because once they got there he would need to play his hand...and once he did everything would need to fall into place perfectly. This was not what he’d originally planned...not necessarily what he’d wanted, but if he could get the girl to stop praying to the Planet, then maybe he could still mete out his original purpose. And it wouldn’t be straightforward...it wouldn’t be simplistic or calculated or clean but it was _something. _Initially, he’d intended to break Sephiroth with grief...it was very clear that that was not going to happen. It seemed that the day was rife with miscalculations on his part...but no more. He had played his hand and been dealt a deck of things he couldn’t hope to unravel with what little time was left. The scientist knew-instinctively-that the silver-haired man would seek his partner first...that that would be his top priority. And a hopeful part of him whispered that maybe he would kill enough AVALANCHE members along the way to lessen his own troubles...but that was doubtful. The former General now knew that the populace was as much a victim of a mechanism as he had been. He doubted that the green-eyed ex-soldier would treat the people kindly if they decided to try to stop him...but he also doubted that he would kill them.

Left, right, left...down side roads...hurtling towards the Lower Plate at breakneck speed. Elfe was trying to talk to him but he ignored it, wrote it off as desperate focus and knew it would be understood. Because it was focus, but it wasn’t for the reasons that either woman was thinking. Once his ruse was up, he would need to act fast. He would need to subdue all three women and while Aerith and her mother would be easy to overcome, his fellow leader would not be so easy. He would go for Elmyra first-he decided-and then he would go for Elfe...get her out of the way so he could get to the main event. The woman beside him was already injured...though the reasoning behind it was unknown to her...only known to him. He would exploit that weakness as best he could. Fuhito had minimal combat training, but his cleverness and mental agility made up for it in volumes. Down to the slums now...past rickety houses and rotting, dilapidated structures. Aerith was hastily muttering directions into Elfe’s ears but he ignored it in favor of concentration. There was the screech of tires, a sharp jolt as they were all flung forward somewhat as the vehicle braked. The bespectacled man made a great show of unbuckling his seat belt in ‘panicked’ haste...threw it to the side and sprinted up the short-grassed, flowered patch of lawn to the wooden front door. Elfe was shouting something behind him but he didn’t heed it, ignored it in favor of kicking the aforementioned thing in and striding into the living room.

It didn’t take him long to find her.

Mostly because she was sitting at the dining room table with a book in her hands. Old...so old...she was better off with the Planet anyway. And when he scooped Elmyra up, yanked her harshly by the arm, she pleaded with him but it didn’t seem like she was able to collect herself enough to muster anything particularly important and coherent. He smirked at her panic and then drew a dagger across her throat until the blood sprayed across his face...he didn’t care. Because now-_now-_was his moment. Sephiroth had taken his initial moment...the moment he’d _wanted. _Because he had dreamed of bringing the former General to his knees since the demand for his capture left his lips. He would revel in this carnage because the intended culmination of his previous carnage had been robbed of him. And as the other two women burst into the door he flicked a Seal materia at it to swing it shut and keep it that way. Just the three of them...as he wanted it...as he had _planned _it. And this plan would come to fruition...or he would die trying to make it so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations**: 
> 
> **[1]**_ やって...おくれよ_-Do it, please (Not the exact literal meaning)
> 
> **[2]**_ 神々...セフィロス、われ に フ-ファック しろ_\- Gods… Sephiroth, f-fuck me.
> 
> **[3]**_ 止めないで_\- Don’t stop.
> 
> My Japanese isn't good, so I apologize for any mistakes. I'd be glad to fix them if anyone could point me in the right direction.
> 
> Also, President Shinra's office was described based on FFVII Remake artwork.


	9. Chapter Eight

Anger.

It wasn’t something that he was accustomed to. Staring out the windows of the debriefing room, Vincent tried to quell the emotions in his chest that seemed like they were a near-constant nowadays. Beside him, Angeal was sitting in a chair thumbing through a magazine but it was obvious his focus wasn’t entirely on the glossy pages in front of him. He knew-instinctively-that something was wrong. Ever since his last trip to the labs with Genesis, the younger man had been somewhat withdrawn. Not necessarily brooding, but definitely contemplative. It worried him, because it told him that the younger man had discovered something definitive about his degradation that he wasn’t wanting to share...or at the very least something he was wanting to mull over himself before telling him. The worry that ate at him every time the thought popped up in his mind was insidious. Not because he was upset with his partner, but because not knowing was nearly as agonizing as knowing something. The ebon-haired gunslinger wasn’t inquisitive or nosy by nature, but he’d been forced to acknowledge in recent days that if his lover didn’t address the issue he was going to ask him about it. 

He was worried about Sephiroth.

Realistically, he was also worried about Genesis, but he was also quite upset with Genesis and admitting he was worried about him while being upset with him didn’t go hand in hand. Shifting, Vincent sank down on the arm of the chair his partner was sitting in. Angeal looked up and gave him a wan smile but otherwise didn’t egg him on in terms of conversation. First and foremost, the older man was angry because the redhead seemed determined to blame them for things they could not control. As much as he’d have liked it if their word was law within Shinra...it really wasn’t. Things were controlled by popular vote, and while it was certainly much fairer than what Administration used to be, it didn’t mean that things didn’t occasionally come out sideways. It was true that he’d asked the younger man to come and help them discover a cure, but he sometimes wondered if it was worth it considering how awful Genesis was to Angeal ninety-five percent of the time. And what if they didn’t find a cure? Then he’d just dragged them both together to make each other miserable for no good reason at all. The ex-Turk knew it was more complex than that on both sides, but it didn’t help him feel any less guilty about it. 

When the former Commander had kneed Angeal he’d just acted. Because some instinctual part of him screamed that someone had attacked the love of his life and he was going to draw blood whether he wanted to control himself or not. And he was  _ tired.  _ Tired of the vitriol, tired of explaining that he hadn’t meant any of it to come about so negatively, and tired of always being the composed and unruffled one who never did anything when someone else came at him with a mouthful of irateness. Looking back on it, he was disgusted with himself. Because-in a way-he’d played right into Genesis’ hands. He’d let his emotionalism get the best of him in a volatile situation and now there was nothing he could do to get it back. Vincent wasn’t ashamed of defending his partner, but he was ashamed of defending his partner in a way that left him unshackled and out of control. When he’d gone for the redhead again it wasn’t so much him doing it as it was Chaos acting out of a strange protective instinct. He knew-undoubtably-that if Sephiroth hadn’t stopped him then they’d have had a serious, potentially uncontrollable issue on their hands. 

Lately, he felt more and more unhinged.

Not in the sense that it kept building, but he had moments of complete and utterly irrational behavior that he couldn’t conscience. It frightened him, because it indicated that Chaos was closer to the surface than he’d ever been before and he didn’t know what was causing it. He couldn’t chalk it up to emotional distress. He had-veritably-lost his entire family in the space of a few days and he’d done nothing but go to sleep. This was a different sort of instability, something that seemed to simmer just beneath his skin like it was itching to get out. His behavior in the Board Meeting had only solidified his suspicions of possible mental distress. Never, in his  _ entire  _ life had Vincent ever been so verbally irascible. If he were entirely honest with himself he didn’t remember much of it. Angeal gave him an unintentional play-by-play afterward and he found himself stumbling over his recollections of his tirade with a muddled sense of bewilderment. The General seemed bemused and rather impressed, but the crimson-eyed man was just uncomfortable. Because if this was going to become a habit no one was going to be able to stand him. He might as well put on a red wig and start giving Sephiroth soppy glances. 

The chips upset him more than he’d have liked to admit. 

The Science Division had come up with the idea during one of the meetings when they were initially discussing exile. The idea was to implant intravenous substance distributors just under the epidermis. He wasn’t entirely sure where exactly they were inserted, but it was evidently somewhere obscure enough that neither man had noticed it until it was mentioned to them. The chips injected ketamine into the bloodstream; enough to fell a fully grown bull elephant. They’d protested against it strongly, because then their concept of freedom was just that...a concept. He’d known instinctively that neither Genesis nor Sephiroth would be half as willing to accept the terms of their incarceration if they knew they had implants in their bodies that could knock them flat at the drop of a hat. Hollander had played around with the concept of keeping a little bit of the drug in their systems at all times...to keep them compliant. Addiction was...after all...a good incentive to behave. The minute the scientist had voiced the idea aloud Angeal had stormed out the meeting. Because they were  _ not  _ trying to turn the two men into drug-addled robots...they were trying to rehabilitate them, to give them a decent quality of life despite their apparent limitations. 

So when the Administrator in question had ‘spilled the beans’ so-to-speak, Vincent had wanted to throttle every single board member seated at the table. Assumably, it had been agreed to when he and Angeal were away checking on their wards. This-if anything-made the sting of it more virulent, because it was clear that Administration had moved for the change when they knew there wasn’t going to be any clear opposition. The Council still had the ability to cast a vote without their presence, even if their stance on the subject of it was clear. He knew he couldn’t really be angry with Reeve, because he’d been forced into a terrible situation with no backup save for those who supported their reformative idealisms in the first place. That didn’t change the fact that it felt like a betrayal, like a regression into what Shinra used to be. And while Vincent had never been particularly vested in the concepts that HQ liked to throw around, he still wanted to see the reform succeed; if not for himself, for Angeal. Chaos purred as the idea of the younger man crossed his mind and he grimaced. 

They needed to talk about the concept of his longevity. 

He’d been putting it off, mostly because he didn’t like to face the idea himself. But he was also avoiding the topic because he didn’t know how Angeal would react. It was hard to turn to someone and say  _ ‘hey, I think I’m immortal’.  _ Just thinking about it was so strange that he was tempted to turn his ruminations elsewhere. They still hadn’t had any word from AVALANCHE and he was getting frustrated in that area as well. Because he could only pander to the public so much right now before he said something incurably rude, and he was painfully aware that he was straddling the line between logic and crassness to an extreme degree already. Realistically, the only thing that had kept him from transforming at the last rally  _ was  _ his logic. And while he didn’t feel crazy himself, Chaos was certainly crazy and he’d been carrying him around for a very long time. He didn’t know if there was some sort of limit to how long you could haul a demon about before it simply decided that you were boring. Then again-he thought wryly-if boredness with a host body was a factor in demonic essence-sharing then Chaos should have technically killed him a long time ago. Clearing his throat, Vincent opened his mouth to speak.

“We need to talk.” 

Angeal paused, one hand hovering over the edge of a page. Blue eyes glanced up at him before glancing back down. Then, carefully, those surprisingly delicate fingers shut the magazine and put it to the side. The blue-eyed man leaned forward expectantly, rose a graceful onyx brow in expectation as the older man silently went to shambles on the inside. 

“When...Lucrecia fused me with Chaos, I was dying.” He said slowly, haltingly. “Because of that, when I woke...my body...it was...frozen as who I was at the time.” Swallowing, he took a deep breath before continuing. “I don’t...if Chaos would take over, if he would decide that he wanted something, I don’t know if I’d die or not. The state of my physicality...without him...I’m not there...I was brain-dead for a long time.” When the General opened his mouth to speak, he raised a supplicative hand and the former Commander leaned back. “Angeal, I don’t think I’m going to get any older than this. And even if-by some miracle-I was able to separate myself from the demon within me...I don’t know if I’d survive it.” Closing his eyes, he shook his head. “I think I should have told you this sooner, but now….” Vincent huffed exasperatedly. “It’s selfish.” He continued flatly. “But I keep thinking-having  _ nightmares- _ about waking up hundreds of years from now when everyone I know and love is gone. There’s a good possibility I could outlive Sephiroth...and I don’t really know how to deal with that. Because as much as we disagree, and as much as we sometimes seem to never listen to each other...I still love him...he’s my son.” Lowering his head until his hair fell forward to obscure his face, he shook his head. “I don’t want to bury my son.” 

It seemed whatever Angeal had wanted to say had escaped him or had died on his tongue after his monologue. The silence that fell over them was like the sometimes heavy weight of his cape, though there wasn’t anything alive about it with all this talk about death. When his partner’s fingers reached for his hand to lace their digits together, Vincent chanced a glance through the ebony fringe of his tresses to find fading blue irises downcast and pale lips pressed into a thin line. That was before the General’s other hand came to curl around their joint ones, and he had to shift somewhat to accommodate as the younger man brought their tangled fingers to his lips to brush a trembling mouth over the gunslinger’s knuckles. 

The former Turk wasn’t one who didn’t appreciate the comfortable silence they shared all the time, but now, it was tinged with anticipation, and not in a good way because he couldn’t simply quell the cold slither of emotions inside his gut. He supposed Chaos’ presence simmering just underneath his skin didn’t help ease the matters on his already fatigued consciousness and subconsciousness, either. Angeal didn’t let go, and that point of contact was what he needed to focus on because it was like a beacon of comfort, grounding, much like every other facet of his lover’s presence. The dark-haired First was reliable, even in his state of deterioration, and Vincent couldn’t help but begrudgingly agree with Genesis on the matter. And it was, again, selfish because he was asking for comfort instead of providing for it. Sometimes it surprised him how the younger man took it all in stride and never once complained about his asking for too much… It was almost enough for him to free his hand and try to do something about the situation instead of letting it spiral downwards into an uncontrolled mess which seemed to be the case during the past several days when his companion’s quiet voice stopped him.

“It’s weird that after so many years of witnessing death, of bringing death, I still don’t know how to deal with matters related to it…” A brief bitter laugh. “I wonder if it’s because of all the blood that’s on my hands that now it’s come to be just as much a part of our home as you and I.” Angeal’s voice was breaking a little so he lowered it even more as he added. “Maybe it’s because we started from Sephiroth’s death and then through Zack’s and Gi-my  _ m-mother’s _ .” The General quickly looked away, at one of the windows, his lips parting in a loud, deep exhale as he tried to compose himself. “And it’s probably selfish to think that I’d rather die first than to see you gone… it’s probably even more inconsiderate to tell you that you’re strong, that you’d survive it-...” Vincent wanted to interrupt, opened his mouth but was quickly rebuked. “ _ No _ , let me finish, even if it’s ruinous and horrible! Those are facts, even though I know you loathe them more with each passing day of our relationship, with my  _ disease _ ; but I love you-...” The gunslinger was shaking his head, which made the blue-eyed General repeat his statement, more assertive and slightly louder. “I  _ love _ you Vincent and my degradation isn’t going to change that as long as I can manage coherent thoughts, and even whe-...”

“ _ -You don’t know that! _ You  _ don-... _ ”

“-There’s no cure, Vincent! Genesis’ tried, again and again… He’s destroying himself...” The First Class soldier was up on his feet, cradling the sides of the older man’s face and trying to make him look, but Vincent couldn’t, pressed his eyes shut, and tried not to think,  _ just not to think…  _ “Listen.  _ Listen _ to  _ me _ ,  _ please. _ Sephiroth, Genesis, and I are intimate with death...we’ve accepted ours long ago, even though the thought of the death of our loved ones is enough to bring us to our knees…even though the death of you would be the end of me… But I’d rather die a thousand times than to live in a world without you.” When the former Turk didn’t acquiesce to open his eyes, a kiss was pressed against the bandana covering his forehead, another against the crown of his head before he was drawn inexorably forward against a muscular chest, the knitted fabric brushing his cheek as Angeal’s fingers tangled in his hair. “It wasn’t selfish of you not to tell me, but if I could, I  _ wish _ you’d told me sooner…that I could take your nightmares away.” A gravid pause filled with the steady thump of his lover’s heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest, and the rustle of his fingers as they sifted through Vincent's hair, and it was too much...unbearably too much... “I love you, I will always be with you even if I’m no longer here.” 

It really wasn't fair. 

Indignantly, Vincent reflected that Angeal was providing a clear mirror to how he felt. Because he would personally rather be eaten by several Marlboros several times than exist in a perpetual state of absence. He wasn't ignorant of death...but he'd never been in a position where death had disturbed him so much. Miserably, the older man acknowledged that maybe he should have reached out to Sephiroth more... because now he felt too guilty to continue with the conversation. The horror in regards to the fact that Genesis hadn't been able to provide a cure was muted... because he had somewhat learned to expect it. Dread was an eternal facet to everything he touched. And he'd been right not to hope too much...been right to look the other way in terms of anticipation. That didn’t change the fact that it was crushing; that it was a little bit like crumbling into pieces inside. The crimson-eyed man wasn’t entirely sure if he was going to be able to put himself back together once this was over. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been looking for by telling Angeal about his concerns; though truthfully, he’d just wanted to be honest about his thoughts. It wasn’t like there was a  _ cure  _ for Chaos. Though there was-evidently-a cure for degradation that was beyond both of their grasps. And it was the idea of it that bothered him more than anything; the concept that Genesis had lived and Angeal would die because they happened to both be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The gunslinger knew that the redhead’s cure had come at a terrible price, and he would never ask his partner to go through what his childhood friend had gone through to get it...but the lingering verity of it was still there.

“Thank you.” Vincent mumbled, and he hated that his voice came out choked. Taking a deep steadying breath, he continued. “Thank you for giving me this time with you. You don’t-you don’t  _ know  _ how much I value it.” The ex-Turk paused. “Or maybe you do, but I wanted to tell you anyway.” There were so many things he’d wanted to tell the younger man, so many places he wanted to see with him, so many moments he wanted to share. Silly things; walks on the beach, quiet mornings. When Shinra was somewhat reformed he’d intended to bring up the idea of retiring together...of moving away and enjoying their lives somewhere peaceful and slow-moving. Maybe, in due time, Genesis and Sephiroth would have welcomed them on Funaraoi...and the dream of it was a painful thing...of living close to family...of being able to visit them whenever they could. He and the redhead could squabble on the porch and Angeal and his son could shake their heads in a despairing, affectionate sort of way. Funaraoi would still be there...Genesis and Sephiroth might still be there...but there would always be that empty chair...that sense of terrible loss. And he didn’t know, in the thick of it all, if he would have a place with his child and his partner once all of this was over...if they would want him around. He didn’t know why that hurt him so much, and he didn’t  _ want  _ it to hurt him so much. ...But it did. “I’m sorry.” He murmured, and this time his voice was thick with tears. “I made this about me, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to-!” He got up-moved away-because he was crying and he didn’t want his partner to see it. Vincent paced briskly to the floor to ceiling windows and looked out. “We should do something.” He said hastily, roughly. When his lover looked like he wanted to address his grief, he plowed forward resolutely. “Something for you. Is there anywhere you wanted to go? Someplace you wanted to see or revisit?”

With his eyes he pleaded for Angeal to let it go, to follow his train of thought. Because if they continued with this vein of conversation he was going to break and it would be an ugly thing...something the General should not have to deal with at a time like this. But it seemed that his partner didn’t want to let him have it. Following him to the panoramic panes of glass, the younger man came to a stand in front of him, a smile that was at the same time genuine and yet sad stretching over his pale lips a little before strong big palms cradled the sides of his face again. And Vincent didn’t want this, and at the same time he  _ needed _ it like he needed air to breathe. Trying to object was futile because his lover was having none of it as sapphire eyes fluttered closed when those same lips placed a kiss on his forehead, when strong arms drew him close yet again, a stubbled cheek pressed against his as the familiar dulcet tone whispered into his ear, echoing words from a memory that was at the same time eons away and still so near, still so painful. “You don’t have to hold it in, it’s okay to be sad.”

Before Vincent could even answer or break down however, the lights in the briefing room flickered. He could feel rather than see the frown that settled over Angeal’s aquiline features, the arms that had held onto him-anchoring him to the here and now-loosening somewhat. The flickering happened a couple more times before the room was abruptly plunged into total darkness. At this, the General let go of him and rushed to the window. Turning around to see what had spurred his lover into such haste, the gunslinger could see that the lights in the sectors that were visible from their vantage point started shutting down as well, along with the plumes of green that always emanated from the metal domes of the reactors. “What’s happening?” The younger man gave voice to the question that had been in Vincent’s head. 

It took a couple of minutes for emergency lights to turn back on behind them but they were heedless to it, just as they were heedless to the simultaneous messages they received on their cell phones. Just as abruptly as the shimmering green of mako had ceased exuding out of the mako reactors, they rose through the black circular exhausts, the city though, was still engulfed in darkness. 

And all of a sudden, there were tendrils of Lifestream swiftly rising alongside the Shinra tower; more and more as they weaved together, the translucence of them now a bright blinding emerald light as it was made into a pillar of luminescence that reached for the heavens, rising higher than they could see from where they were standing. The sky that had been part cloudy, was now completely overcast, the clouds swirling over headquarters as though it was the eye of the imminent storm the brief flashes of lightning were heralding. And when the crimson-eyed marksman was sure that things couldn’t take a turn for stranger, viridescent spheres descended from the sky followed by iridescent comet-tails of Lifestream and slammed into the heart of the reactors in front of them.

Chaos stirred.

Realistically, it wasn't stirring. It was a little bit like Chaos woke-abruptly-and then attempted to crawl out of his tongue. Vincent heard himself make a derisive choking sound, somewhere between disbelief and fear. Because it had  _ never  _ been like this before. Transforming from himself into a mindless killing machine had always been intense, but it had never been painful. It was as if a fire was ripping across his chest...like something molten and glowing was shoved into the deepest recesses of his being and left to smolder. The view in front of him wavered and he felt himself give a full-body shudder before falling to his knees. It was different-so  _ frighteningly _ different-and so intense that he felt the vessels behind his eyes constrict from the strain of it. Angeal was saying something but he couldn't concentrate on it... couldn't focus as agony threatened to undo him from the inside out. The younger man approached and the terror at his advancement wasn't just his...it also belonged to Chaos...and when he opened his mouth to speak his voice was dual-toned...his and that of the creature inside of him.

** _“Don't!”_ **

It confirmed what he had suspected, that the being sharing his soul was sympathetic to his lover...but the acknowledgement of the fact didn't make him feel any better. Chaos was at odds with himself... battling against the humanity two decades of living within his psyche had given him and the primal part of him that wanted to serve another, darker purpose. And as the ripped tatters of their rent psyches flooded together he could  _ see  _ that purpose and the horror that rose up within him was insidious. Vincent couldn't bring voice to what he had seen no matter how hard he tried. It was taking every ounce of his restraint to keep from screaming in agony as it was. He felt rather than saw Chaos come to a decision...and within that decision was the nuance of egress. And he understood-in that moment-that Chaos was leaving him behind. Why, he didn't know...only that Angeal was a factor and the demon in question couldn't stay without ripping him to shreds. The gunslinger was given the distinct impression that something was missing…that a piece of a puzzle from a different time and place was absent and without it they would destroy each other. The sensation of tearing heightened, became an all-encompassing impression of ripping straight down the middle. At the same time, there was the impression of further loss...of something akin to it all slipping away as well. With a surge of alarm, the crimson-eyed ex-Turk realized that Chaos was taking the Protomateria. He didn’t have time to think on it-couldn’t-because the demon chose that moment to fully rip himself away. 

Almost immediately, his vision gave out.

There was a roar, a shout from Angeal and the explosion of glass. The thump of massive wings reached his ears and Vincent thought that maybe he should be more upset about it...but he couldn’t muster up the emotional energy for a virulent response. He was  _ exhausted,  _ he didn’t think he’d ever been so exhausted in his life. It was like a giant...lead weight was abruptly dropped onto his person until it felt like he was sinking through the floor. The room temperature appeared to abruptly drop and kept dropping...until he was  _ freezing  _ but his body seemed to have forgotten how to shiver. There was a hard surface beneath him...but the sensation of its presence was rapidly receding into something pins-and-needles-esque. A gloved hand was touching his arm but he couldn’t really  _ feel  _ it...as if the entirety of his nervous system was shutting down. 

_ “Vincent!”  _

It took a monumental effort to speak through rapidly failing lungs.

“‘Geal.” He garbled...felt the freezing texture of his tongue on his lips even as the younger man said his name again. “‘Geal.” Vincent repeated…brows drawing together with the effort of it. “I’m so  _ cold.”  _

And he heard the bewilderment in his voice as he said it...heard the kind of desperate response that came on the wings of his statement. Like falling....endlessly falling and he didn’t know where he was anymore. It had happened so quickly he didn’t have time to process it...and it didn’t seem like his brain was going to let him. The gunslinger tried to speak-couldn’t-green danced in front of his eyes even as someone frantically gathered him up, crushed his body into warmth and babbled something desperate and heartbroken and frantic. And he wanted to  _ apologize  _ but he didn’t know what he was apologizing for. Didn’t know who he  _ was  _ anymore. Shadows lunged inwards, rose like massive insidious clouds in his psyche until they swallowed him whole.  _ Cold... _ it was so cold… And as the last vestiges of his awareness gasped and died a single word threaded its way through his mental corridors...like a lonely phantom in a massive...hollow palace of bones. Not a word, but a name;

_ ‘...Angeal?’ _

* * *

Snippets kept repeating in front of his eyes, flashbacks to only a couple of minutes ago, to the exact moment Vincent had collapsed right in front of his eyes; how his handsome face had been fraught with heart-wrenching agony. The pain had been mirrored in the windows to his souls as Chaos had emerged, ripped something from within his lover’s chest and flew, or rather slammed through shatter-proof glass so hard it exploded, and then into an invisible barrier that seemed to have separated the HQ from the outside world.

But Angeal hadn’t stood around to watch anymore, because for all he’d known, his partner, his lover was dying in front of his eyes, and from something that had no cure… So when he’d touched a leather-clad arm and found it akin to touching a chiseled statue wrought from icicles of the northern continent, the panic that had been surging in his veins had frozen. And when Vincent had talked to him, it was with the knowledge that the older man was frightened...and cold...so  _ cold _ … Angeal had been helpless but to cradle him in an embrace, if he could he’d have taken the sun out of the sky and placed it inside that beautiful chest only so it could warm the rapidly cooling frame inside his arms…to have golden rays course through the vessels that were filling with quickly coagulating hemoglobin. 

It had taken him an infinitesimal moment before the reality of Vincent’s death had rammed into him, along with a virulent sense of loss and panic, and the blue-eyed General felt indescribably weary… The idea that he could collapse right there and die alongside the love of his life had been so comforting, but he couldn’t... _ couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t  _ give up, not until that chest was still rising and falling…albeit faintly, the rhythm gradually dwindling to nothingness. It wasn’t much of a choice, much of a decision then that he’d taken that soul-shattering fear, wrung it tight, twisted it and beat it into a sense of urgency. 

The gunslinger’s body felt heavier than it should, had nearly slipped from his arms a couple of times before the younger man had scrambled to get a better grip. The elevators weren’t working, and from forty-ninth floor to sixty-seventh floor he’d had to climb the stairs, and he did. The thought of using his wing had occurred to him at one point but it wouldn’t work inside the close quarters of the stairwell. 

Two and three steps at a time. 

Only five more floors to go, and he’d nearly dropped Vincent again, couldn’t bring him high up to his chest like he always used to; the golden prosthetic arm dangling and the occasional clink of the metallic talons hitting the floor made him feel like he had sinned, guilt gripping him by the throat as he tried to hoist the heavy body in his arms higher, only to hear the same sound again a couple of floors upper. 

By the time he’d reached the Science Division his fingers were almost numb, and the muscles in his arms burned with the strain, and so did his lungs, from trying to breathe in more oxygen than his inhalations could provide. The tachycardic rhythm of his heart or the hyperventilation of his respiratory system, however, all faded in the background as he called for help, as he tried to breathe and talk at the same time...barely keeping himself upright as he recalled what Vincent had told him before about Lucrecia putting the former Turk in a mako tank before merging Chaos with him. And he’d followed his ebon-haired partner through doors and corridors, wishing all the time that it was him lying on the gurney not the gunslinger...wishing  _ he  _ was dead- _ dying _ -because the only thing that could save the crimson-eyed individual from disintegrating had literally flown out the window-to pursue what, who knew-and Angeal didn’t really care…didn’t care about all the strange things they’d witnessed together inside the briefing room; didn’t care if the world was falling to shambles all around him while he watched with fading blue eyes as lab techs stripped his lover bare, hooked him to the equipments that’d monitor his condition and keep him alive before trapping him inside a glass prison. 

It was when the shimmering green liquid started pooling underneath the soles of those feet that the dark-haired First fell to his knees beside it, not at all heeding the offers of sympathy, or words of caution, or even truths as the feelings he had held back for-what seemed-so long rushed in a flood of jagged shards inside his heart and tore it to shreds. And as he leaned his forehead to the cool glass of the tank, a pained noise bubbled up his throat to escape him in a muted sigh, like the last whine of a wounded animal before it relinquished its will to fate. 

He didn’t need degradation now to die day by day...second by second…

He was already dead.

* * *

Fear. 

Sephiroth was staring at the massive emerald and green... _ thing... _ that had risen above HQ when he felt it. It was a strange feeling, because it wasn’t the concupiscent dread that seemed to follow him hither and thither no matter where he was or whoever he was with. Nor was it the virulent, mind-crushing fear that accosted him whenever Genesis did something absolutely crazy. It also wasn’t the fear of servitude or entrapment...it was too vague for that. No...the sensation was something so faint it was almost bittersweet...a dull throb that made him pause and exhale before it shivered through his bones like cold fire. And a small facet of him wanted to turn tail...wanted to sprint towards HQ because whatever had caused it...it was there. His redheaded lover had looked at him strangely, had raised a crimson brow with an apple halfway to his mouth when the younger man abruptly turned into a statue. The silver-haired man forced himself to act through it, to keep pacing in order to think objectively.

Upon Fuhito’s escape, he’d practically knocked down the entirety of the guard to get to Genesis’ cell. To their credit, they didn’t put up much of a fight; not after he threw an angry civilian thirty feet to the right. Apparently the idiot in question decided it might be smart to try and charge what amounted to a retired serial killer who was seething with rage. Sephiroth made sure to correct that concept as quickly and as painfully as possible. From then on, he’d met very little resistance. Without their leaders to give them orders, AVALANCHE was tentative about acting on impulse...and they were likely saving their own skins by doing so. The guards stationed in front of Genesis’ cell took one look at him and moved aside, averting their eyes as if ashamed of their own cowardice. Seething, the green-eyed ex-First had ignored them...ignored the proffered keys and kicked the door down just because he could do it. The man of the hour was out cold on the floor and for a singular frightening moment rage had threatened to overtake him. Because  _ no one  _ who dared to lay a finger on his lover was going to live to tell the tale. 

It took him fifteen minutes to wake Genesis up.

When he did, he was forced to revert to restraint, because the former Commander chose that moment to have a monumental episode of PTSD. Being attacked in a cell was-apparently-far too close to his routine in Deepground and there were several dents in the wall from where Sephiroth had been thrown up against it before everything was over. The burns on his fingertips were going to stay for at least a week and not for the first time he found himself wishing that he’d asked HQ for mako injections before they’d been handed over. He seriously doubted they’d have been given any, but it was worth a shot. Once Genesis was done blowing up he proceeded to break down, which took considerably more time to reverse than his blind panic. With a distraught and shaking redhead curled against his chest, he couldn’t help but think that maybe it was worth killing everyone to just get out of this with their minds intact. 

Telling Genesis about the clones was probably the wrong thing to do.

Right away, in any case. But there wasn’t really any way he could avoid it. By the time he’d finished talking, the older man had called Rapier and was looking like he’d happily hack the city to bits in order to get to Fuhito. This had resulted in a screaming match-mostly with Genesis screaming-because while he was perfectly happy with murdering everyone it just wasn’t a strategic move and it could-feasibly-hurt Angeal and Vincent. And he was angry about the clone...but it was a resigned kind of anger...like this was something he’d come to expect from the world and there was nothing he could do about it. His resignation seemed to make his partner-if possible-even more furious. Still, as flamboyant and dramatic as his scarlet-haired former comrade could be, he did care about Angeal. And despite the fact that he was practically spitting with rage when he agreed with him, Genesis was able to restrain himself...to a point.

In reality, his restraint was likely questionable. Because the older man proceeded to Firaga them out of the cell and into the melee of AVALANCHE members like they’d never had a discussion about self control at all. No one-thankfully-was dead. But there were a few sentries who had been standing too close who didn’t have eyebrows or facial hair anymore. Sephiroth was forced to dog after his fuming lover like a toddler, occasionally making his protests known but otherwise wisely keeping his mouth shut. No one really seemed to want to stop them, and by the time they reached a somewhat secluded spot the trail of fire behind them had significantly lessened. Perched atop several crates of apples in what appeared to be a ration station, they’d discussed the possibility of tactics for several hours; until the sky went black and a fluorescent, mechanic monstrosity forced itself upwards through HQ. After staring at it for several seconds, both apparently trying to wrap their minds around it...the two former Soldiers proceeded to have a brief tactical debate. Genesis had snagged up an apple while he was waving his hands around and Sephiroth had started pacing because he couldn’t think of anything better to do. 

...And that was what led them there.

“...Fuhito needs to be dealt with” Sephiroth said darkly, kicking an empty crate.

“Yeah, well, that’s obvio...us…” Genesis trailed off, jumping down from his high seat on one of the crates, snapping the core of the apple in two where it was held between a thumb and forefinger, a flabbergasted expression fleeting across his face as azure eyes zeroed in on something behind the silver-haired man’s back. “What. The.  _ hell _ is that?” 

Pivoting on his heel, the former General came face to face with another thing surrounded by the shimmering green he’d know anywhere-the Lifestream-which resembled a flying arachnid of sorts…in the general direction of Sector Five.

“Another summon?” His partner commented beside him, shivering when his beryl eyes turned to look at the redhead. Genesis’ hands were brushing up and down his arms, hugging his khaki-clad frame as though he was cold. When platinum brows furrowed slightly, a small smile was offered to him, lighting up the depths of those cerulean pools despite its ephemerality. “I’m fine. It’s just too much magic.” The former Commander glanced at the monstrosity towering above HQ before turning to look at the other one, and then back to him. A smirk twisting his lips. “I think we’ve got our work cut out for us. Headquarters or Sector Five?”

Sephiroth considered his query. Around them, the members of AVALANCHE appeared to have forgotten about them completely. There was a lot of overall shouting and panic, speculations as to what was happening and whether people were in danger. Derisively, the green-eyed man figured that they were probably in a considerable amount of danger considering that green, glowing monstrosities didn’t thrust themselves out of the ground and into the sky on a regular basis. Eyeing the aforementioned abomination, he ignored the shiver that ran down his spine at the sight of it. Sometimes, it felt like their lives couldn’t get any stranger, and then they did. He wasn’t sure if he should be resentful or thankful of the fact that their existences were so permanently interesting. Returning his focus to Genesis’ question, he allowed himself to ruminate over it for a minute. Whatever was going on, he had a sneaking suspicion that Fuhito was behind it. It only made sense that one or both of them should track the scientist down in order to find out what they could. 

There were only so many places the bespectacled man could go, and he entertained a quiet sort of thrill at the idea of interrogating the individual that had thought he could be fooled by a clone. It was impossible to deny the fact that he wanted revenge...justice. Not only for himself but for his lover. They’d been through too much-had come  _ too far- _ only to have someone try and tear them down in such a personal manner. He sensed that the blue-eyed ex-First was just as upset about it as he was, if not more, but his outburst after waking and subsequent Firaga’ing of considerable magnitude had cooled his temper somewhat. If they went together, there was always the possibility that they’d fuel each other’s rage and Fuhito wouldn’t survive long enough to answer any questions. He acknowledged that this would be very counterproductive to their endgame. Grudgingly, the silver-haired man also noted that at least one of them should check in with HQ. He wasn’t entirely sure if anyone had died from whatever was going on there, but a niggling feeling in his chest was telling him it was necessary.

“I think you might be better equipped to apprehend Fuhito.” Sephiroth said slowly. “Your interrogation methods are more...creative than mine.” The redhead grinned-somewhat terrifyingly-and he smirked. “I want to check back with HQ, see what we’re dealing with up close.” Green eyes swept over the panicked crowd. “Does it ever feel like we’re on the clock even though we haven’t been employed for a couple years?” He asked wearily. Long fingers gestured at the panicked masses. “Do we leave them to their hysterics until we know more?” The former General made a face. “It’s not like we’re getting _paid _for this.” 

Genesis offered him a wan but no less genuine smile, coming to a stand in front of him, so he could no longer see the masses he’d been referring to a moment ago. Pale digits curled around his and brought his hands together-cupped in between his lover’s palms-they tightened momentarily before there was a ripping sound, and the noir magnificence of the redhead’s wing emerged in a flurry of feathers. The desire to run his fingers through the ebony appendage was just as strong and as instinctual as it had been the very first time he’d been witness to it. Sephiroth reigned it in because this was neither time nor the place for it, and he couldn’t simply do it without asking his partner for permission even though it was probably given. He’d quite possibly receive an incredulously bemused but long-suffering affectionate look for it.

“I’ll take care of that arachnoid summon and then proceed to leave no stone unturned in my search for that psycho scientist if I have to.” The former Commander offered, and the warmth of a palm that was cradling the side of his face and nudging it to make the silver-haired man look back into endless azure pools instead of that green glowing monster in the air, inexorably changed the direction of his line of sight. “Also, forget about crowd control, I’d like to see how Shinra’s going to manage once everything’s over. What’s more important however,” The redhead paused, the hand on his cheek descending to curl around the side of his neck, thumb brushing the hollow under his ear. “Are you alright?” Blue eyes cut away to the direction of the headquarters before returning to his visage.

He didn’t know how to answer that.

The concept made him a little uncomfortable, because he didn’t  _ know  _ what was wrong...he just knew something was wrong. Sephiroth was usually fairly good with following his instincts, but now they were muddled. There were too many things happening at once for him to be able to narrow it down to one subject. He was worried about Genesis, despite his massive capabilities in terms of combat. Because he loved him and he didn’t want him to get hurt and some small part of him insisted he needed to tail the redhead because Gaia forbid he blow something up and get caught in the crossfire. It was-realistically- _ unrealistic,  _ but it didn’t stop him from fretting. They hadn’t been separated for a long time, and a facet of his psyche was a little bit anxious about being left ‘alone.’ Because when they parted ways terrible things tended to happen and he didn’t want that for either of them. Lifting his hands to mirror the older man’s gesture, Sephiroth gazed into cerulean irises and attempted to memorize each glimmering azure component. Leaning forward, the former General captured the scarlet-haired man’s mouth in a brief but poignant kiss. When Genesis chased his lips as he drew away he allowed it, because they might not get another moment like this for a long while. 

Reassurance was pointless, because neither of them knew very much in terms of what was going on. And both of them were fully aware of the degree of the affection shared between them; aware enough that words weren’t really necessary. Letting one hand slide from an alabaster cheek into thick, crimson locks, Sephiroth pulled back and nudged his nose against his partner’s, earning him a surprised but soft sort of smile. And he knew that the former Commander was waiting for an answer, but he didn’t have anything definitive to give him...only uncertainty. There was a tremor...coming from far away, and the moment was broken as they both turned and watched as the spherical, glowing luminescence surrounding the mechanism shooting up through HQ seemed to shudder. A reddish, glowing shape was apparent at the apex, and the silver-haired man narrowed his eyes in recognition. His lover made a sound of sincere surprise before speaking.

“...Is that…?”

“It is.” Sephiroth said tightly. “But...something isn’t right about him.” He inhaled sharply as an inhumane roar echoed across the space separating them from Chaos. Letting his arms fall he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, ignored the strangeness that seared down his spine as his wing burst forth. “I need to go.” He said tightly. “I’ll be alright.” He added when Genesis opened his mouth to speak. When the older man continued to look somewhat anxious, he relented. “I love you, Gen.” 

Blue eyes gazed at him for a long moment, as though questioning the sincerity of his words, or maybe in a mirrored attempt to memorize the younger man’s visage. Then, a kiss was bestowed on the other side of his neck where the former Commander’s hand wasn’t holding onto before the silver-haired ex-First was drawn forward in a tight embrace. A shiver ran down Sephiroth’s spine as the primary pinions of Genesis’ wing touched his, and as he found himself holding onto the lithe frame in his arms, his feathery softness of onyx plumage brushed against his right hand while his lover’s appendage tried to envelope around him. 

“I love you.” The redhead whispered, his breath ghosting over the former General’s ear before those lips closed over the hollow under his ear yet again. “If you get yourself killed, I’ll use a phoenix down on you and kill you again myself.” There was a nervous chuckle before his lover burrowed his face in his hair, and Sephiroth couldn’t help but smile at those words, even though it wasn’t seen. And it was a wan little thing, but nonetheless wrought from the happiness Genesis brought forth in his soul. 

Their moment, as significant as it was, ended, ephemeral like a twinkle of a star in a brief gap of the tufty canopy of clouds, before the welkin was overcast again and it was gone once more. His companion drew back, the familiar melodious voice filled the yawning distance between them. “When the war of the beasts brings about the world’s end, the goddess descends from the sky…wings of light and dark spread afar.” A brief pause. “She guides us to bliss...her gift everlasting. Till we meet again Sephiroth.” Genesis walked backwards a couple of steps before turning around quickly and soaring heavenwards, leaving behind a cascade of ebony feathers that pirouetted slowly to the ground.

He didn’t watch him go.

Not because he didn’t want to, but because it was counterproductive. Pivoting, Sephiroth lingered long enough to acknowledge that no one else had noted his lover’s escape before vaulting skywards as well. He flew in a different direction; towards HQ and to the distant crimson shape of Chaos. The city seemed dead below him, and he recognized that the populace at least wasn’t stupid enough to stay outside during an event like this. Even as far away as he was, he could still sense the immense amount of power coming from the glowing construct. The silver-haired ex-soldier wasn’t half as attuned to magic as his partner was...and sometimes he was glad for it. What with how amplified the rest of his senses were, he was loathe to think of how severe a magical sensitivity would be. He banked to the South side of the city, not because he was hanging back, but because-if-necessary-he wanted to flank Chaos. He didn’t know what exactly the demon’s purpose was in all this, but he didn’t want to get caught off guard, and he didn’t want to face him head-on...their last fight had taught him that he would lose taking that approach. 

The magical barrier fell when he was still a mile out. 

As he watched it disintegrate, Sephiroth assumed that it must have been what amounted to an extremely powerful Wall. What it was supposed to keep out...or in, he wasn’t exactly sure. If he were entirely honest with himself, the entirety of it was eerie. It was strange to be face to face with something that he was almost completely positive was more powerful than himself. He knew-instinctively-that nothing he could do would be enough to bring it down. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was biological, mechanical, or a little bit of both. The composition in of itself was bizarre. He couldn’t focus on it anymore-however-because he’d flown past the disintegrated event horizon of the ‘Wall’ and was now within what he assumed was the perimeter of the entity. At once, it was quieter; almost like stepping into a soundproof room...but not entirely. The silver-haired ex-First was accosted with the sensation of being on a mountainside covered in several feet of snow. The only ambience at all was a quiet...soundless but somehow deafening howl...like the roar of the wind over flat planes. Switching his gaze to the reactors, he acknowledged that the sound was somehow tied to the green threads leading from them into the gigantic structure. 

Chaos was ahead, but he was quiet for once...crimson eyes locked on each thread of Lifestream as if observing their progress. He understood-almost instantaneously-that his was not Vincent. That there was no component of Vincent  _ left.  _ Sephiroth couldn’t say exactly how he knew this, only that the concept of it was concrete...the feeling he was getting from the demon’s was singularly that of the demon. Behind outstretched, leathery wings was the remainder of HQ, and he knew that it was urgent for him to get there...but he wouldn’t be able to without engaging Chaos outright. Resignedly, the former General acknowledged that this was a fight he might lose. He would need to rely almost entirely on his intelligence, which wasn’t entirely unusual, but it was certainly different from what he’d been doing lately. The creature before him was an entity of strength coupled with predatory instinct. Sephiroth had both, but you couldn’t fight fire with fire. It was-he thought in a fit of morbid humor-a little bit like trying to defeat Genesis with a flamethrower; impossible and idiotic. No, he would need to  _ deceive  _ Chaos in order to gain any type of upper hand, and even then he wasn’t entirely sure if he would have to kill him to prevent pursuit. 

Plunging sharply downwards, Sephiroth levelled out somewhere above the smoking, fire-encompassed remains of what remained of the infrastructure to the reactors...trailing corrupt Lifestream in his wake. It was this-more than anything-that caught the demon’s attention, and it was with a surge of apprehensive triumph that he acknowledged the roar that heralded his adversary’s pursuit. This-inadvertently-would be the hardest part. He needed to engage Chaos’ interest long enough, draw him out hard enough that once his endgame became clear his opponent couldn’t pull back...couldn’t fall away from the inevitable. His palm shivered somewhat as Masamune became a solid thing...the heft of the blade a welcome weight in his palm as he banked sharply left, underneath what could only call the ‘legs’ of the construct, weaving in and out before rocketing upwards. Up, up, up and he was cresting the ‘head’; circumventing the spread wings in a tight spiral.

More prominent than his current focus was the sense that he didn’t have a lot of time. That whatever this was, it was crucial that they figure it out before the worst happened. He knew, instinctively, that this was something he couldn’t afford to lose, even if it meant that he had to go down with it. A primordial doomsday clock had struck midnight…the black toll of it thundered through his veins and there was only the impression of  _ now, now, now.  _ It was a dizzying thing, coupled with his intense concentration on what he was doing. A shadow to his left, a sense of imminent impact and he had but bare seconds to throw his blade upwards to block a vicious downwards slice from a clawed hand. He twisted, let himself ride the air currents before tucking his wing and letting himself drop like a stone. Scarlet, the rush of impossible depth and upwards again, around-parry, block-that inhumane screech that felt like it was tearing his eardrums out through his teeth.

Chaos was  _ fast. _

A miscalculation on his part, because he had forgotten. And he hadn’t so much as forgotten as dismissed the reality of the demon’s velocity while in the throes of madness. As much as he’d have liked to tell himself otherwise, Sephiroth wasn’t in peak condition anymore. Incarceration had forced him to practically start over from scratch, and without mako, everything about this was his personal physical prowess. And the sense of height was overwhelming, the speed at which he was forced to take things was beyond anything he had done in basic training or in combat. The former General had always fought against opponents of equal or lesser ability than him. Working with an adversary that was somewhat beyond his capabilities was something he thought he’d left behind long ago. But there was always the reality that his drill-sergeants had beaten into his mind; the reality that someday, everyone would face someone better than they were. A talon snatched at his wing-managed to get a hold-yanked him back and threw him and Sephiroth was forced to go with it, forced to smash into the ‘torso’ components of the construct and watch as stars burst in front of his eyes and blood blossomed over his lips. He couldn’t think on it-couldn’t acknowledge the searing pain that screamed  _ broken ribs, punctured lung, concussion- _ merely groaned and then threw himself away, parried another strike and came down hard, hard enough that Chaos howled before their lethal game of chase began again. 

He wondered-offhandedly-how Genesis was doing. Sincerely, he hoped the younger man was faring better than he was. It was a bit stupid-now that he thought about it-to engage an enemy he knew was quite a bit more fearsome than he was head on. Backup, of course, wouldn’t have been much use, but this was completely ridiculous in terms of calculative foresight. Calculations didn’t matter here, he was-distinctly-overpowered. If he didn’t end this soon, it was going to be the end of him. Spitting hemoglobin from his mouth, the silver-haired man didn’t wait to see where it fell, banked sharply left instead and took a kind of savage satisfaction of listening to his pursuer scramble to copy him. He did have the advantage of maneuverability. Chaos had to finagle his way into spaces that he could pass through with ease, and he took advantage of it liberally; wove in and out of the crevasses marking the ‘shoulders’ of whatever was sucking the Lifestream out of the reactors, dove between threads and took a direct downwards plunge...leveled out until he was inches from chrome and metal surfaces and narrowed beryl eyes.

It was now or never.

Sephiroth went for the closest reactor, made a straight line from where he was to that pool of glowing...hissing spirit essence and sent a prayer into nothingness...because he was borne from nothingness. His heartbeat thundered in his ears even as his corneas watered at the force of his ingress, Masamune nearly torn from his hands as he forced the muscles in his back past their breaking point…’till dark spots were blooming in front of his eyes and he could barely see straight. Chaos was inches behind him, the heat of his pursuit like cold fire at his heels and he  _ wished  _ he didn’t have to be the monster that destroyed monsters. Wished that they had more time because obviously...there was a part of the demon that was somewhat emphatic. But there was no time for guilt...no room for consideration. Closer, closer and chartreuse was enveloping his vision, crawling into every facet of his visual cortex until he could almost feel the acidic burn of it again...could almost feel it searing through his veins like it had in Nibelheim. 

Chaos roared….

Sephiroth banked upwards….

…Explosion. 

It hurt more than he thought it would, but he took the pain and made it motivation, didn’t stop to listen to the howls that seemed to pursue him into the black void of agony in his psyche and his physicality. The reactor was a conflagration...a blaze that shot skyward...green mingling with scarlet. He kept going, half-blind with it, half agonized because he didn’t know if he’d just destroyed his father in the process...only knew that he’d  _ had  _ to. There was the burn of mako across his side...the seep of hissing, unprocessed Lifestream eating through his clothes and into his skin. Blindly, he veered towards HQ, took only a moment to determine his trajectory before slamming into the windows of Administration in a hail of glass. His feet hit carpeted flooring and there was the tell-tale  ** _*click* _ ** of multiple weapons being cocked but he couldn’t focus on it...could only cast his gaze over the glint of several dozen automatics to look at Angeal, who looked practically dead to the world. Sephiroth opened his mouth, choked on blood and staggered left...someone caught him but he didn’t see who it was. Green eyes found blue yet again, and the silver-haired former General shuddered before speaking.

“Angeal…” He wheezed. This, at least, earned him a look...an agonized, _guilty _look, but a look nevertheless. “V-Vince-” Sephiroth nearly slapped the Curaga someone was finagling into him away before thinking better of it. Again, the dark-haired First didn’t move...and the fear that had crawled inside of him since the monstrosity above them had appeared intensified into a cold dread. “_Angeal!_” He pleaded, and he hated how broken his voice sounded. “Where is Vincent?!” No response, and his vision was growing steadily darker even as healing warmth spread through his body. When he spoke again, his voice was slurred. “_‘Geal..._where’s m’-my...where is my _father?_”

Darkness reared up from behind like a black serpent and swallowed him whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this chapter onward I'll be editing and posting the remainder of the trilogy. I wanted to apologize in advance if there are mistakes, grammatical or otherwise.


	10. Chapter Nine

The wind tousled his hair as Genesis flew headfirst toward the monster flapping its weird wings above the metropolis. Lifestream was surrounding it in a blinding sphere of emerald that made him squint. It was a summon for sure, and a very powerful one at that. Bahamuts, Ifrit and all his other eldritch creatures-which would probably be too taxing to summon right now-were nothing compared to it in terms of the magic that seemed to exude from it. The very air was ripe with it, and for a moment the redhead wondered if he were to run out of magic, he could probably absorb it from the atmosphere. Quickly pushing the thought away in favor of strategizing an attack, the former Commander realized that Apocalypse, Ultima and any other area attacks were out of the window, because as dangerous as his adversary might be, and as uncaring as he was for human lives, he didn’t feel like explaining why he didn’t use Tri-fire or other approaches instead of levelling a portion of the upper plate. 

Perhaps rushing inside the blinding light without casting a Wall hadn’t been his brightest idea, but rush inside he did, Rapier flaring in his hand as he summoned four identical replicas of his sword out of thin air which ran the abomination through at the same time. Unlike other summons, it didn’t make any sound, doing whatever it had been doing, which seemed to be siphoning the Lifestream-that was gathered above the giant monster looming over the Shinra tower-inside the cloud of shimmering green around it. Not letting that deter him, he dove forward yet again, raised his blade diagonally before bringing it down… It was strange to feel the impact reverberate through the metal and up along his arm, throwing him off balance midair whereas it hadn’t been like that before when he’d had much more mako coursing through his system. The clangs weren’t as loud and as deafening as before, but considering the lesser amount of power he could put behind every offensive that also played a part. 

Up close, the monster was something both mechanical and somewhat biological. Much more different from Bahamut, Bahamut Fury, Zero and SIN in terms of how it had some sort of armor. Its wings weren’t really wings but it seemed suspended in the air regardless, with insectile limbs however nowhere near as flimsy. There was a flash of light, bluish, emerging from the center of its torso, and Genesis abruptly had to dodge as a beam was sent outwards in the direction he had been moments ago. Countering quickly, his brows furrowed in concentration as the former Commander raised a hand toward his face before extending it toward the creature. Red spheres of light haloed with rings of runes erupted from his palm and homed in on the summon in quick succession. The quill-like appendages on the summon’s back started detaching and shooting menacingly toward him in an attempt to possibly skewer him, forcing him to zigzag before they could whiz past him. The redhead could only throw Firaga after Firaga at his adversary, wondering briefly how Sephiroth was doing considering how Chaos had been at large, and especially with that enormous entity looming over the headquarters like some gargantuan guardian.

Another beam of blue very nearly hit him before those sharp spines finally let up, returned to their place at the creature’s back, and it was then that Genesis went in for the kill. Diagonal slash, hit, another on the other side, another hit landed, thrust, thrust, a twisting strike and he soared heavenward as the blue beam of light became apparent again before thrusting downward, slamming his blade in the abomination’s skull and cleaving it in two as he dragged Rapier down all the way before freeing it.

Dropping to the ground, his wing helped ease the landing but he still stumbled before righting himself, noticing only now that he was breathing more heavily than he should be as this wasn’t even a warmup for his past self. The fact that he was so awfully out of shape made his lips curl with disgust while he watched with squinting blue eyes as the brightness surrounding the summon became even more unbearable. Rays of intense light started erupting from it and the viridescent sphere exploded, momentarily lighting up the overcast sky so much that it was akin daytime. 

And then, just like that, darkness fell over the metropolis again in a heavy blanket of doom. 

Everywhere was eerily silent save for the rumbles that followed tiny flashes of lighting in the thunderhead swirling ominously over HQ. People seemed to have vacated the streets and were all huddled up inside the safety of their houses, and Genesis didn’t know if he should grimace in the face of their cowardice or count them smart enough not to try to beat an enemy they had no hopes of defea-... 

“-What have you  _ done?! _ ” It was the voice of that psycho scientist,  _ what was his name again? _

Turning around and arching an eyebrow, the ex-First came face to face with the bespectacled man who had a gun levelled at his chest, a look of pure agony and rage twisting his features. Not deigning to reply to the question posed at him, the former Commander raised his sword somewhat only to have the AVALANCHE member-who had pulled that dirty move on Sephiroth using  _ his  _ clone-fire his gun at him, which Genesis deflected. Again and again, until the trigger clicked empty.

“You doomed us all!” The dark-haired man shouted as he lunged at him with his now useless gun. It was a rather ridiculous fight, because even though he was indulging him for the time being, the redhead could just cleave the metal in two and then beat some sense in the scientist’s head before dragging his sorry ass back to HQ. “Now Omega’s going to take all the life on the Planet into space…  _ You ruined– _ ** _everything!_ ** ” The yell backended into a loud roar, and the man before him was suddenly metamorphosing into some sort of monster. Genesis was torn between the urge to groan because he had to fight yet another beast-and an enraged and psychotic one at that-and the desire to smirk because now  _ this  _ was what you could call a figh-...

-The redhead didn’t have time to finish that line of thought before he was slammed by the flat of a wing-like blade into a building. The wind that was knocked out of his lungs didn’t get a chance to rush back inside because just as abruptly, Fuhito was upon him, scissor-like claws nearly snipping him in half. Genesis dodged only to have them latch onto his wing, cutting through thin flesh and hitting the bone before they heaved, and he was again hurled toward the buildings on the other side of the street. The damages he was receiving were cluttering a half-formed mental list in his brain despite the hazy state it was in, another pain bloomed in his right shoulder which sobered him up somewhat before the former soldier realized that Rapier wasn’t in his grasp anymore, probably having fallen somewhere in the middle of being flung hither and thither like a ragdoll… Again, another hurl but this time in a hail of asphalt and debris before Fuhito descended on him, limbs raised high for the finishing blow before Genesis hastily cast a Wall. There was the screech of those claws against his barrier as the enraged abomination tried hitting him again and again in its mounting frustration. It was detrimental to his concentration as he lay there, with his eyes closed and trying to maintain the Wall. Resigning himself to the spell that came to him the easiest at the moment, Genesis tried to focus on the entity determined to be the end of him before casting Ultima with an attempt to inflict as little damage to the surrounding areas as was possible. The scarlet-haired ex-soldier didn’t open his eyes to witness the damage he had wrought or to see whether his attack had indeed finished off his enemy or not; but if the cessation in the constant clangs and screeches were any sign, if the heavy thump of a body on the ground just on the other side of his Wall was to mean something, it was probably that he had prevailed. 

Oh, how he wished it would rain right now.

Assessing the hits he’d taken, he acknowledged that he was going to survive even though he was nowhere near his peak condition even by his now more normal standards. He just needed to get back to the headquarters before he could let himself rest instead of lying in a ditch dented into the asphalt by the sheer force he’d been slammed into it. Licking the thick film of blood coating his lips, Genesis had to bite the flesh as he raised himself to a sitting position, pain searing across his back and ribcage as the adrenaline started receding from his system. It seemed that he’d subconsciously tucked his wing in, possibly in fear of having the appendage fractured. The pain of extending it was more so than usual, another agony to bear especially since he was going to use it as a means to get to the Shinra tower as fast as he could. 

Powering through it, he decided that they could send a seek and rescue team for the Aerith girl when some gargantuan creature wasn’t going to bring about a premature armageddon to the world as they knew it. Not that he cared if it’d have made an exception to leave Sephiroth and him out of the equation. Speaking of which, the brilliant splash of vibrant red and violet that was Chaos was nowhere in sight as Genesis made his way toward the heart of Shinra’s empire, noticing one of those shimmering chords of light sapping the Lifestream straight out of the reactors missing along with the shambled remains of the reactor it had been attached to. It had exploded for some reason, and how he’d missed the sound of its explosion was beyond him at the moment. 

He’d been about to dismiss it, been about to continue his somewhat leisurely way to the headquarters where Sephiroth was probably waiting for him with his father as the raven-haired ex-Turk possibly tried to reign in his wayward demon. But abruptly he stilled, hovered in the air as his mind put the pieces of the puzzle together, and he couldn’t help but feel dread slowly pooling coolly in his mouth as his heart plummeted to the bottom of his stomach. Azure eyes darted to and fro between the colossal beast and the demolished mako reactor before he took that sense of panicked frenzy and started blowing up reactor after reactor. Shinra could gun him down for all he cared but Genesis wasn’t going to let this Omega thing-as Fuhito had called it-have its way. 

He nearly dropped dead like a stone a couple of times, especially after an attempt at trying to establish a mental link with Sephiroth, which had made him realize how dangerously close he was to running himself dry on magic reserves. It had also left him empty-handed because as much as he hadn’t been able to maintain the link long enough before he’d nearly flown headfirst into a dome of reinforced metal, he hadn’t received anything in return which had fed into the sense of foreboding pooling in his gut. 

With the last of the Lifestream channels disintegrating as the last mako reactor blew up into smithereens, Genesis mustered the last vestiges of his strength to make one last flight to the landing pad on the roof of the headquarters. The entourage of Seconds that were there flocked around him, but the redhead kept pushing them aside, repeating over and over that he needed to see Sephiroth and talk to Angeal or Reeve before they could apprehend him or whatever they planned on doing with him. The former Commander had come  _ this  _ close to threatening them with an Apocalypse before they decided to follow him instead rather than try to stand in his way, especially at a time like this. 

When Tseng informed him that Angeal and Sephiroth were in the Science Division, his forced swagger turned into a full out run and leaping over flights of stairs; heedless to how he was leaving a trail of blood, and to whether numerous pairs of feet were thundering behind him or not. Fearing the worst, he’d nearly tore the Science Department apart until they showed him to the room his lover was lying on a cot. He could only make out  _ Mako burns, Concussion, Fractured ribs, Mako shots _ … and he’d zoned out the rest of it, batted away the hands that tried to heal him or offer him any sort of remedy for his wounds as he’d nearly collapsed beside the bed. Didn’t realize how close he was to the brink of yet another breakdown as he laced his fingers with those long digits he loved so much while he mumbled the younger man’s name under his breath and in his head, failing repeatedly to establish a connection to his utmost dread. The only thing Genesis had accepted was a chair to sit on as he leaned his forehead against the back of his partner’s palm and closed his eyes for a moment while he waited.

_ Just a moment. _

Sephiroth stirred beneath him, and the redhead sat up with a jolt, winced and groaned at the same time as he blinked bleary eyes. Making a face that promised murder at the clock on the wall-because it was offending him with insinuating that he had slept a couple of hours-the scarlet-haired ex-soldier returned his undivided focus to the slowly rousing individual in front of him while gritting his teeth. Emerald eyes didn’t seem to recognize him at first; seemed to flood into a haze of initial panic when the younger man realized where he was. The redhead couldn’t blame him, even in his injured state he was loathe to be somewhere like this again. Slowly, his partner seemed to gain cognizance...his gaze softening as it passed over his face, as sanguine lips parted in a half-relieved, half-hungry sort of recognition before those beryl irises traveled to the rest of his body. When he realized Genesis was injured, the silver-haired man attempted to scramble upwards, hissed in pain as he did so but tried again anyways. This caused the redhead to rise in order to push him back down and, really, they were hopeless because neither one of them seemed eager to let the other suffer their injuries for the sake of themselves. By the time it was all over the former General had pulled the former Commander onto the cot with him and they were curled up together in a kind of weird sort of locked resistance. 

“Gen’sis.” Sephiroth muttered blearily, cupped his cheek in a desperate way before tucking the older man’s head under his chin. Someone approached with a curaga and this time the scarlet-haired man allowed it-mostly because he was distracted-sighed as regenerative warmth seeped into his veins even as his fingers tightened in his lover’s shirt.  _ “Gen.”  _

Hands brushed over his physicality, heedless of where they were or who was around them...and they were  _ looking  _ for lesions...looking for injuries. And there was something so indescribably intimate about the fact that those calloused palms could touch him so gently while searching for his hurts. Hot breath on his forehead, lips replacing eupnea before the green-eyed ex-soldier’s nose was buried in his hair...breathing in his scent as if memorizing his olfactory signature. It occurred to him that they were both too beaten up to really be doing this sort of thing, pulling out their swords and bashing things to pieces in order to garner peace. But the Curaga helped...the way he was being held...cradled, really...that helped more. And Sephiroth was a solid presence, something stoic and serene in a world that was so chaotic he sometimes didn’t know what to do about it. They didn’t have a lot of time...didn’t really have any time but he let himself have this, because they both  _ needed  _ it. He was-distantly-aware that they were being given space, that Shinra was showing them a kind of benevolence that they never had before. It was a testament to their consideration that they weren’t being cuffed, that they hadn’t been pulled apart. The blue-eyed man didn’t allow himself to ponder it...because it didn’t matter. 

“You’re  _ hurt. _ ” And the manner in which it was said, like it was somehow the younger man’s fault, like Genesis’ pain was his lover’s pain...it made him want to kiss him and punch him in the face all at once. “What happened?”

The desire to succumb to the urge he’d felt back then where he’d been lying in that ditch in the middle of the street returned to him, but he couldn’t allow himself to give in, because he didn’t want to miss this. He wouldn’t miss any second they shared for the world… Letting his fingers trail down to the hem of Sephiroth’s shirt, Genesis let azure eyes flutter closed as he brushed chapped lips against the younger man’s neck before latching onto it as though the pale skin was his very remedy; breathing him in as though his unique scent-underneath the smell of labs, antiseptic, and blood-was the very air he needed to breathe. And it wasn’t a desirous gesture, but something to ground him, even as his hand wandered underneath the light garment, across threads of elastic fabric wound around his lover’s torso like a second layer of skin. A shaky sigh passed through the part of his mouth, hot against the magnificent slope of the silver-haired ex-soldier’s throat before he drew back somewhat as he opened his eyes slowly...found a pair of brilliant emerald eyes seeking his that were now gazing into his soul, and the former Commander was helpless to shiver. And when he opened his mouth to speak, it was hard to keep his voice steady, and even though he managed that with difficulty, he couldn’t stop the trembling of his lips. 

“ _ You’re  _ hurt.” The redhead echoed, couldn’t stop the pain from reaching the surface and twisting his face, so he looked away and down so he could hide behind a fringe of auburn. “What happened? I thought…” He trailed off, because he couldn’t continue.

Sephiroth appeared to be formulating a reply before he paused, head lifting to gaze at something behind Genesis, even as a long arm snaked around his waist to draw him closer. Levering himself up a bit, the redhead wearily acknowledged that the tech now approaching him was holding a hypodermic needle filled to the brim with mako. He wanted to refuse it, because the last time he’d been injected with mako it had fueled an addiction. Instinctively, he knew that this was different, that this wouldn’t be the same. It didn’t stop him from being apprehensive about it, didn’t stop the cold slither of fear that coiled in his belly. Green eyes had returned to him, were studying his face as if gauging his reaction and the redhead tried to reassemble his visage into something that he hoped was minorly reassuring. He knew-automatically-that the younger man would defend his decision to refuse if needed. They had never really talked about his-admittedly short-dependency on the Lifestream, but the silver-haired ex-First had never really needed a reason to rise to the occasion in terms of his preferences. Inhaling unsteadily, the older man nodded jerkily-once-to show his assent. 

“Chaos...I couldn’t get back to HQ without getting by him...and there was no way I was going to do that without it being combative.” Sephiroth swallowed, and the pain in his eyes was more emotional now than physical. “I couldn’t- _ I didn’t  _ want to kill him, but there wasn’t any other logical course. I don’t know if-” His partner looked briefly hysterical. “Vincent-!”

The bite of the needle in his arm was negligible to what was coming from his partner’s mouth. With a sense of prolific horror, Genesis realized that the former General was trying to tell him he was worried that he’d killed his  _ father.  _ And he knew that the crimson-eyed ex-Turk hadn’t been there for his son when he needed him, but there was the glaring fact that the older man had been  _ trying.  _ Unconsciously, he let his unencumbered arm reach forward to grasp his lover’s shoulder. In response, Sephiroth lowered his head...his jaw took on a stubborn, unforgiving sort of appearance and he understood. They needed to know the facts before they gave themselves over to panic. And while the scarlet-haired man was panicking for an entirely different reason, he could at least comprehend his former comrade’s despair. Because he had killed his parents, but there was no comparing the two instances; it was rather like night and day. That wasn’t to say that Vincent was a stellar father...but he wasn’t the Rhapsodoses either. It wasn’t even fair to put the two viewpoints side by side and try to look at them. He startled as his partner rose again, this time with somewhat more success. 

“You should rest.” He muttered hastily. “I need to-I should find Angeal.” 

“I’m coming with you.” Genesis countered quickly, detangling himself, feeling the needle tug before the tech tried accommodating his movement, mumbling a nervous ‘Just a minute sir, please don’t move.’ before the redhead’s patience ran out, depressed the syringe swiftly with his own hand and yanked it out. He was offered a swab which he’d been about to accept, but had to pause mid-gesture to press his eyes shut as he abruptly felt light-headed with liquid fire burning through his veins. Everything felt more pronounced, his senses heightened even if its wonder would probably wear off after a while; just how long, he didn’t know. Dimly he was aware that the lab assistant was doing what he’d been meaning to do before the former Commander had taken the matters in his own hands, the pain of acid roaring in his cardiovascular system making it harder to return to the reality where Sephiroth was shifting beside him, off to find their mutual former comrade.

Focusing on his own breathing and that of the younger man beside him, the scarlet-haired ex-First opened his eyes, winced, closed them again before blinking rapidly to get used to it. It was hard, watching the world through the eyes of someone who lived in a whole ‘nother timeline, reliving riotous youthful memories and painful ones from a life of servitude. But he forced himself through it, gritted his teeth and curled the fingers of his other arm-that wasn’t bent at the elbow-into a fist so hard half-moon crescents were forming in his palm. He was grateful that Sephiroth didn’t insist on or force him to stay in bed, was aware that those panicked green eyes darted toward him once in a while as they passed through the corridors of the Science Department, worry flashing in them as the former General took in his countenance and the stiffness in his posture; and Genesis couldn’t help but try to offer a wan reassuring smile before turning to look straight ahead.

The raven-haired Turk had told him that Angeal was down here too, and so they asked to be led to where he was, the reluctance they were greeted with only seemed to fuel his lover’s dread that was making him look deathly pale. The former Commander couldn’t help but intertwine their fingers together to stop the minute twitch that made his companion’s elegant ivory digits tremble every once in a while. Finally at the threat of going berserk, they were ushered toward where the dark-haired General was stationed.

Upon entering, Genesis suddenly felt weak in the knees. Because Vincent Valentine was suspended in a mako tank, and by the foot of the said apparatus, was his childhood friend, or what remained of him...because it wasn’t possible, or at least the redhead hadn’t thought it possible for a person to age so much in the expanse of a couple of days… The onyx tresses were streaked with enough grey that it was significantly noticeable, and the defeated expression on the usually stubborn and proud face was so jarring and wrong that he wondered if the General’s soul had left his body alongside Chaos. He didn’t have much time to dwell on any of these, because beside him, Sephiroth made a horrified, agonized noise and then went utterly still. 

He didn’t want to look, didn’t want to  _ see _ but the redhead told himself that it was necessary to understand the depth of the situation. Twisting his chin to the right, he wished he hadn’t...because the look in his partner’s eyes was something heinous...something broken and lost. A silver-haired  _ man  _ was looking at his father...but Genesis saw a little boy...a child who had been given something that he never thought he could have, only to have it snatched away. Those beautiful, beryl eyes were wide in an expression of disbelief that bordered on the naive...on the incredulous denial that only someone youthful in terms of parental perception could make. And it was  _ awful  _ because from the look of the EEG...there wasn’t any brain activity...everything about the situation screamed that they were looking at a body and not a person. A step forward and Sephiroth seemed to stumble, seemed to only catch himself at the last moment before he leaned heavily on the wall and ducked his head until silver hair fell forward to obscure his face. The former Commander let him have his moment, because realistically, he didn’t know what to do...didn’t know what to  _ say  _ that would make this better. And when his lover gathered himself, when he straightened, he was forced to watch as the plush curve of a bottom lip trembled before he appeared to exert a type of iron will. 

“Did  _ I  _ do this?” 

It was whispered...thin and wavering...like the hiss of fragile air in a room filled with holes. The dread that suffused aquiline features was a tangible thing, but at the same time Genesis caught the faintest hints of resignation, the beginnings of self-hate. The older man realized that-despite everything-there was still a part of Sephiroth that was automatically going to blame himself for this, that he was going to  _ expect  _ this. And there was no denying that either of them could be monstrous, but this was something else entirely. The green-eyed ex-soldier looked like a man defeated before he knew the cause of his defeat. It was a little bit frustrating, because even if Sephiroth  _ had  _ caused this it wouldn’t have been his fault...the circumstances were entirely out of his control. There was also the glaring fact that both of them had been angry at Vincent before this...that they’d said things they might have meant in the moment but hadn’t necessarily meant in the long-term. Letting his gaze slide from the former General to his childhood friend, the scarlet-haired man swallowed.

There was also Angeal.

Degrading Angeal... _ broken Angeal.  _ Kneeling next to that mako tank like his only reason to hope in the world was right in front of him. Genesis knew that he’d loved Vincent, and there was always going to be a part of him that wasn’t going to understand that. Because they were such quiet individuals, so calm and unruffled he had no idea how they’d even managed to communicate their attraction to one another in the first place. At the same time, his mind played over the little moments...the small things he’d observed between them. The way that Vincent would watch Angeal speak like every word that rolled off his tongue was pure gold. The manner in which the dark-haired First would gently catch the curve of the gunslinger’s hip to get his attention, his eyes soft and tender. The curve of those normally expressionless lips, the flash of white teeth when the crimson-eyed man smiled at the General. Their closeness...the way they seemed to rotate around each other whenever the other was near...like they were caught in each other’s orbit. 

He knew how hard his childhood friend had searched for love, how discouraged he’d become with his romantic endeavors...enough to push them aside in favor of focus on his duties. And it wasn’t  _ fair.  _ It wasn’t fair like this...it wasn’t fair. A shuffle to his right, and he watched as Sephiroth took several slow, halting steps forward…‘till he was but inches away from the glass separating him from his sire...inches away from Angeal. And it was with surprise that the redhead saw his lover kneel next to the shattered soul next to the mako tank...saw slender, pale fingers reach out to take a large palm in both of his. 

Something broke inside him then, moisture burning in his eyes, and he had to look away, had to press his lips in a tight line to stifle the gasp that had been about to escape. A facet of him was wholly affronted by the idea of joining the duo by the mako tank...and at the same time he felt trapped behind a pane of glass, wanted to scream, to shatter the invisible wall he’d erected in front of himself but couldn’t. Something inside him whispered that this probably wasn’t the first time Sephiroth and Angeal had been trying to comfort each other...that he didn’t know,  _ hadn’t _ asked much about what had happened during the time he’d been  _ dead _ . That he hadn’t asked about what exactly had happened when his copy had been living his life in his stead while he’d been busy fighting tooth and nail to become a  _ Tsviet _ . He could  _ never  _ bring himself to ask because it was cruel...just  _ cruel _ … And Genesis wanted to run away, escape from this bitter reality that was forcing him to stare back at its horrendous face; wanted to stumble forward but staggered backwards and his back hit the cold metal.

A litany of rejections, refusal and rebuttals were circulating in his head, because he wouldn’t stand aside and watch as two of the most powerful individuals on Gaia were reduced to nothingness because of grief. Not again. The pain of his fingers tugging on red strands where they had carded through his hair was nothing compared to the fading sensation of mako coursing inside him, nothing compared to the sorrow and agony of his former comrades. They didn’t have time for this, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to voice that while they were succumbing to sorrow, Omega was bringing about the end of the world; knew that probably Angeal wouldn’t care about it at all…would probably welcome death with open arms as long as it meant he’d be with the one he loved for an eternity. 

_ No. _

There had to be something they could do, something, anything. 

The dark-haired First seemed to have finally found his voice, was recounting the events of Vincent’s death in a quiet, disconsolate tone that kept stumbling word after word, but Genesis couldn’t focus on that; looked around frantically, found the unfortunate lab assistant who seemed to hover around uselessly, unsure of what to do.  _ Stride forward _ , leaden foot after another, before he asked what they’d done to try and remedy the situation only to find out that since the ex-Turk was a brain-dead person, there was nothing they could do. That they hadn’t tried  _ anything  _ to fix this! 

As much as he had his own problems with the crimson-eyed individual, he couldn’t abide by the idea…bristled in rage in the face of it, because his childhood friend hadn’t found love only to have it snatched away from him...because Sephiroth hadn’t found his father, only to have life rob him of the idea of some semblance of a normal family...even as jealous as the redhead might have been and might still be. 

He couldn’t help but stare at the body suspended in the luminescent green, at the point of contact where his lover’s deft fingers were holding on the blue-eyed General’s palm, where Angeal’s pepper-and-salt strands spilled over the silver-haired man’s shoulder while their mutual former comrade’s frame shook with quiet sobs. And he wanted to rush forward and throw the Banoran aside because he shouldn’t do this to Sephiroth...who was sitting frozen like a statue, his face raised to regard his sire. 

Genesis couldn’t do this, felt the seams of his psyche unravel, felt a rent rip slowly inside him before he had to push it all down...trample on his emotions and everything all at once, so he could stay sane, for the time being at least. Maybe it was G who rose up inside him, but they were so smoothly integrated together now that it was hard to tell the difference. Now he just felt numb, almost apathetic as he wracked through his brain...through memories, through what Sephiroth had told him...how both of them had died and returned to the world of the living...how the scarlet-haired man had been pumped so full of mako he’d seen green and how his lover had regenerated inside a viridescent crystalline tomb. Vincent was already surrounded by it...probably had so much of it inside his system that it would be enough to give him mako poisoning.

That only left one thing.

“J-Jenova cells.” The former Commander choked, as though he’d resurfaced from the depths of an ocean.

Sephiroth stirred but still didn’t look at him; though that might have been because he was somewhat encumbered by Angeal’s head on his shoulder. Strangely, the younger man seemed at peace with the closeness, which told the redhead it was likely something that had happened before...though more than likely in reverse. Most of the former General’s tenseness was coming from what was before them rather than what was beside him. It was a strange picture, because they were both such very different people, people who had made vastly differing decisions regarding their Fate and yet here they were. In his mind-his youthful mind-Sephiroth had always seemed larger than life, before he met him anyway. Even when they began their romantic relationship there was a miniscule part of him that was resistant to the concept that they were equals. Here, now, the green-eyed ex-soldier seemed small...seemed almost miniscule with the weight on his shoulders, and he wanted to take it away because it was frightening to acknowledge that there were things in this world that could trump even the greatest of men. And Genesis knew he himself was one of those things, that he could destroy the individual slumped before him with a mere word because of the amount of love Sephiroth carried for him, but it was still hard to be on the outside looking in. 

“What would it do?”

His partner’s voice was hesitant, somewhat ragged and there was the sense that he was holding back his emotionalism in favor of control because there couldn’t be more than one person falling apart in the room than there already was. A head of silver hair shifted somewhat, until moonlight colored strands were spilling over a graceful shoulder as his lover turned somewhat...as the glimmering emerald of one of those beautiful eyes caught his. The despair in them was paramount but there was also the faintest hint of apprehensive expectation. And he knew the younger man was searching for something solid, something definitive. But his concept was merely a theory, and he didn’t want to give reassurances where there really weren’t any. Angeal appeared to be considering his suggestion as well, but he was more quiet about it...still turned away from him, gazing at the figure in the tank like it could somehow provide solutions that they could not. 

Genesis was at a loss for words. He could wax poetic about how his mental process had led him to the concept of cells in the first place, but that didn’t change the fact that it was just a hypothesis. That he was again saying something that in the end could prove very much futile...just like how he’d fallen short of providing a cure… Before he could open his mouth to explain, however, the lab assistant standing beside him stepped forward, as though struck by an idea.

“It’s what all three of you share, however it was administered to you when you were very young, the nature of the cells is very volatile. They can mutate and integrate into those of the host.” There was a brief pause, and Angeal was now looking at the tech with red-rimmed fading blue eyes. “Aside from the matter of age, it’s also about finding the right balance.” 

“You’re talking over my head. What are you saying?” The dark-haired First croaked somewhat, looked confusedly at the tech who scrambled to come up with a more simplistic explanation.

“Your regenerative abilities, and your enhanced senses don’t only come from the high levels of mako in your system. Stripped off all the mako in your body, you’re still very different from normal humans. You are stronger, heal faster, age more slowly...because the amount of damage that makes our bodies age is hampered by the regenerative abilities of your mutated DNAs.” 

Shaking his head, Genesis held out a hand and interjected. “What he’s saying is that Sephiroth and I died, and while I don’t know how I survived mine, how I survived degradation, he didn’t have a body… and I can’t even begin to fathom how he did it, but it wasn’t just the Lifestream and the mako he was surrounded with.” Pointing to the mako tank in front of him, the former Commander continued. “He’s surrounded by mako, I was pumped full enough to be an addict, then that only leaves Jenova cells. And I know I’m spewing empty promises again, but if you don’t get your act together, there isn’t going to be a world-...” Another shake of an auburn head. “Let me correct that. That thing outside the HQ is called Omega based on what Fuhito said. It’s gonna collect all the Lifestream coursing through the planet and whoosh,” a gesture with his hands, “take it to the stars. So while we linger here and try to wrap our heads around a theory I’m providing again, and probably a foolhardy one at that-or in your case Angeal, mourn your lover-that summon is probably sapping Vincent’s soul away before it’d turn to ours.”

And Genesis knew he fully deserved to be punched in the face for the move he had pulled, but they needed to get going and they needed to do it fast. If these two wanted to stay here and lament the death of a loved one, there wasn’t much of a love between him and the crimson-eyed gunslinger, so he was going to try his hand at becoming a hero again. Not that he cared for the title or saving the world. Just that he didn’t want to be part of whatever ridiculous scheme his goddess had in her mind.

“There’s also the factor that Vincent’s state of life was more a state of unlife.” Sephiroth mused. “Chaos revived him but his physical body was in stasis.” When Angeal looked at him, almost as if surprised, he shrugged. “He had...concerns about how long he would live. Jenova’s cells break down physical factors in terms of normal people...they create death, or mutation. It’s fair to say that her cells might do the reverse of what they do to everyone else, because Vincent is already  _ dead. _ The Corrupt Lifestream regenerates things tied to me; my sword and my armor-” Sephiroth paused and looked briefly like he wanted to slap himself. “-Which I forgot about, and it holds components of Jenova’s cells.” The younger man’s shoulders slumped. “Nevertheless, we should destroy Omega while we still have time, it seems we’re on a clock.” He sneered. “Because evidently when it comes to saving the world, we’re the only three people physically or mentally qualified.” The younger man leaned back. “So, tactics? What do you do to destroy a biomechanical organism sucking the life out the planet?” 

Angeal was still looking aggrieved but he also now looked perplexed. Shrugging himself off Sephiroth’s shoulder, the two of them disentangled themselves before the silver-haired ex-First pushed off the floor and strode to the wall next to the door. There was a blank expression on his face, a sense of carefully veiled impatience and exasperation. 

“We can’t fly into this blind.” He continued dryly when no one replied. “Look what happened to me when I took on Chaos alone. Besides, does this thing even have combative abilities? Or is it going to be like throwing ourselves into a wall of duracrete over and over again?” 

“We can still slice through duracrete.” Angeal pointed out.

If the General were anyone else, Genesis got the distinct impression he would have groaned.

“Yes, true.” He said tightly. “But my point is it’s not technically an adversary, is it? It’s just a... _ thing.  _ Doing whatever it was designed to do by the Planet. How do you defeat that? Do we shoot it? Do we cut it open? Do we slice off those-” He appeared to lose his brain entirely and brought his fingers up, wiggling them as he did so. “-Those. Those green antennae.” 

If it were any other time Genesis would have burst out laughing, would possibly be rolling on the floor with it. The nostalgia of them sitting together in one room and trying to strategize and find the best course of action to defeat their enemy, however, was enough to sober him up. 

“I have an idea, but-and don’t you  _ dare  _ laugh at me.” The former Commander looked murderously at his former comrades before continuing. “How about we throw everything we have at him to see whatever works? I’m guessing something with such an important mission wouldn’t be susceptible to our swords or simple bullets. Maybe bazookas and tanks? Heavy artillery? Summons and magic? Sister Ray?” Waving a nonchalant hand, he added. “Regardless, I think  _ your _ first priority must be evacuating the headquarters and the surrounding area. I could try casting a Wall, but I don’t think that’s something you’d want to risk, and I definitely can’t maintain a spell of that magnitude in the current state I’m in…” Genesis trailed off, slamming a wall down on his train of thoughts because he didn’t want to think about the implications now.

Angeal seemed to be considering his words, but the blank expression on his face told him that the blue-eyed individual might not be their best choice at formulating a battle plan at the moment. He’d probably have no problems following a given course of action, but expecting him to come up with anything legitimately brilliant or even remotely acceptable was probably a shot in the dark, and one that would miss its mark nine times out of ten. The redhead didn’t know how much of it was degradation and how much the probably crippling grief and sorrow his childhood friend was feeling, but he couldn’t dwell on that now. Turning to regard his lover, the former Commander raised an eyebrow. “I think our friend is a little too out of it at the moment, so...What say you, the demon of Wutai?”

Sephiroth looked distinctly anticipatory. 

“It’s the best idealism we have.” He replied flatly. “We might want to start from the top and work our way downwards in terms of severity. Technically, if we aren’t engaging outright, none of us really stand a chance of getting hurt so the bigger the better.” Silver hair fell forward to obscure his visage and the sense of bitterness exuding him intensified. “I’m not going to put my life on the line to save anyone, just so we’re clear. I’ve had enough of theatrics with Shinra regardless, I’m getting done what I need to get done and any civilians that are stupid enough to stick around aren’t my problem if they get caught in my crossfire.” 

“You still need to take them into considera-” Angeal began with a weary sort of listlessness but the younger man cut him off.

“-No. I don’t. I’m not interested in playing the hero, I only have one reason for surviving this and he’s over there.” He gestured at Genesis. “If anything happens to him, I’ll be glad to see this filthy Planet burn to the ground.” Green eyes cut to the mako tank in front of him and pain flashed across them before it was buried. “I used to have more reasoning, more lives behind my motivation, but I’ve learned to expect very little from those you’re close to. They either want to honor, betray, or sacrifice themselves and I have no patience for any of it. I know better than to expect continuity at this point. So no, Angeal. I won’t stop and I won’t  _ wait.  _ I don’t care anymore.” With this he flattened himself against the wall and proceeded to look so angry Genesis wasn’t entirely sure where it was coming from. “I call the Sister Ray, if it works I’m going to enjoy seeing that thing blown to smithereens so I can get a decent night’s sleep.” 

Angeal heaved a vehement sigh, wavered for a moment as he attempted to stand up from where he’d been sitting crumpled by the tank, held onto the glass for support, shoulders slouching forward; and the posture was so wrong on a twenty-five year old man that Genesis couldn’t stop frowning. Looking away again and toward Sephiroth, he was struck by the urge to join him, to loop his arm around the small of the younger man’s back...because that was how they always comforted one another...but the redhead wasn’t sure if it’d be received well at the moment, so he stood where he’d been, suddenly cognizant that he’d missed when the lab assistant had left the room; quite possibly to start researching the plausibility of his idea.

“Very well, Sister Ray it is. I’ll update Reeve on it. Get SOLDIER to evacuate people and the headquarters. Is there anything you’d need?” Fading blue eyes were looking in his direction. “More mako, Genesis? And you know that I don’t condone it but I don’t have the energy to stop you from having your way, Sephiroth can be my guest.” 

Something was niggling at the back of Genesis’ head, his brows furrowing as he gazed unseeingly at the profile of his lover where he was leaning against the wall. What it was the redhead didn’t know, because whenever he tried holding it in his grasp, the concept escaped him. Shaking his head didn’t seem to clear the clutter of jumbled thoughts in his brain as he absentmindedly responded. “I might take you up on that offer, well if you don’t want to have to reconstruct the headquarters and possibly the majority of the city after everything is over.” Something was wrong, but what he couldn’t quite pinpoint it. 

Before the redhead could voice his concerns, their mutual former comrade nodded and continued. “Is any one of you going to Junon? Do you need anything Sephiroth?”

“Yes.” Sephiroth said tightly. “I need you to disable the part of the cannon that shoots mako, drain it and let me fill it.” At this the General looked at the youngest member of their trio like he had gone entirely crazy. The younger man raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to fill it with the corrupt Lifestream.” He deadpanned. “That thing  _ wants  _ Lifestream, if we do that it’s only going to expedite the process.” He appeared to hesitate before running a hand through his hair. “I’d set up medical tents as well.” was the slow continuation. “I don’t know what Jenova’s cells will do with the Lifestream in general, but right now our focus is keeping it tied to the planet and not sending it into space. The rest can wait.” 

Angeal was making a noise of assent, but Genesis kept his eyes on Sephiroth, kept them trained on him. And it struck him as odd that the younger man wasn’t willing to meet his gaze, that he kept looking anywhere but him, almost desperately...as if the sight of him might be enough to change the course of a decision he had already made. And he seemed apprehensive, as if he was dreading something. It wasn’t like the silver-haired ex-soldier to go into battle tentatively; his memories of fighting with him consisted of him diving in head first. His anger made sense in a way, because it appeared to be masking a deep well of terrible fear, though fear of what, he didn’t know. 

“We should move out.” The former General continued stiffly. “Before we waste time we need to get this done.” 

Walking from where he’d been when it became apparent that Sephiroth was actually going to ignore the weight of his gaze, that he was going to  _ actually  _ do this, Genesis circumvented Angeal, and came to stand in front of the green-eyed individual.

And now his apprehension made sense. The notion that had kept eluding him minutes ago was now an elephant in the room. Because of course, Sister Ray was a mako cannon, and what was mako but concentrated Lifestream. Shooting it at the monster looming over their heads was like Firaga’ing a Bomb. Dread froze in his veins because despite his lack of knowledge concerning how Sephiroth commanded the corrupt Lifestream, he couldn’t see how utilizing that huge an amount of it, enough for the cannon to fire, would affect the younger ex-First in any way that wasn’t suicidal. If it was anything like using magic, the silver-haired man was bound to tax his reserves empty...and Genesis didn’t want to think if the tainted Lifestream was tied with the essence of the younger man’s soul, because if it did…

“You’re not actually going to do this.” The former Commander hissed, cerulean eyes widening briefly in warning, and he tried to ignore how the burning sensation from before was threatening to come back, pushed it back as he pursed cerise lips before continuing. “You  _ can’t _ . You don’t know what it’s going to do to you,  _ do you? _ ” Whipping his head toward Angeal, the redhead looked at his childhood friend frantically. “Scrap that. I’m going to cast a wall and summon Apocalypse, I’d throw all I have at it, summons, everything, but Sephiroth’s not going to Junon.” Turning to look at his lover, Genesis continued. “You’re not.” When the aforementioned man refused to look at him still, the scarlet-haired ex-soldier felt like he was fighting a losing battle, because his partner was stubborn, and once he’d made up his mind, there was as much changing it as it was with himself. “Sephiroth,  _ you’re not… _ ” He pleaded, azure irises seeking those brilliant beryl ones.

Finally the younger man was meeting his eyes, and there was agony behind them. Pain...yes, love...yes...so much love it made him want to drop to the floor, made him want to  _ beg  _ him to stay. Because they had  _ not  _ worked this hard just for them to get ripped apart like this again. Sephiroth could not do this to them. At the same time, there was a shadow glittering behind beryl irises, something determined yet despairing, an acknowledgement of debts paid. And Genesis wanted to howl because this was  _ not  _ how things were made right, you couldn’t repair past wrongs when you were dead in the ground. And the redhead was  _ angry  _ because the silver-haired man didn’t understand, didn’t comprehend that he was leaving him again. That he was choosing what he perceived as the ‘greater good’ over the two of them. Because when there was only one of them, when they were apart things quickly fell to so much shit. And that face, that beautiful, agonizingly beautiful stoic face was a visage wrought in his mentality and he couldn’t be rid of that any more than he could be rid of air to breathe. It didn’t matter that death was a possibility, that it wasn’t a certainty; by choosing this the former General was choosing to go against  _ them.  _

Sephiroth’s mask wavered.

And it was a mask...really. It was glaringly obvious that whatever was being thrown before himself and Angeal was a phantom of what his lover was really feeling. The coldness in those features shivered somewhat, the flat line of those lips turned down the smallest iota...so brief that if he were anyone else, if he didn’t know the younger man so intimately he wouldn’t have noticed it. And Angeal wasn’t saying fucking anything, of course. Wasn’t rising to insist that their former comrade couldn’t do this because he was too wrapped up in his own grief to see things objectively, to understand that by letting Sephiroth do this he was-effectively-ruining something all of them had tried incredibly hard to preserve. 

“Give me another solution.” Spoken hoarsely, like everything his partner was was wrapped up in the phrase. The thud of familiar feet and the silver-haired man was before him...was studying what he was sure was an agonized expression on his face before sinking to his knees. And he wanted to slap away the palm that came to rest on his hip, wanted to push the forehead that followed it into the hollow of the coxal region backwards...but he couldn’t. Because Sephiroth was giving him a chance to find another avenue of approach, he was showing him that he was willing to change his mind if the redhead was able to think of something better. “Gen, if you can think of anything, anything that would work as well...tell me.” 

Rummaging through his brain, Genesis was in a stockpile of rubbish, taking up idea after idea, thought after thought only to have to throw them aside, because they weren’t good enough,  _ none of them were as good as the idea they’d just come up with! _ And quickly, he realized he was going to turn up empty handed… So maybe he wasn’t thinking objectively when he pushed against Sephiroth’s shoulders and staggered backwards as though he’d been burnt, threw the most hateful glare he could at Angeal who was seeing this unfold in front of his eyes but was too much of a fucking  _ coward  _ to say anything. And fuck objective thinking…because his whole fucking life was falling apart around him again… 

“Fuck you!” He spat at his childhood friend before looking at his ex-lover who was still kneeling where he’d been. “You want a better solution, huh?” Running trembling fingers through his hair so he could push his fringe out of his face, the former Commander’s eyes roamed around the room as he tried avoiding his former comrades’, as he tried blinking his tears away but to no avail. So he turned to glare at the subject of his affection. “Look what you’re doing to me… what you’re doing to  _ u-us _ again…” The redhead hissed, before pacing in a tight circle where he was standing, tried controlling his breathing to calm himself, couldn’t, so he shouted at the top of his lungs. “ _ You want a better solution? _ ” Willed Rapier in his hand before hurling it to the ground where it clattered for a moment and laid flat. “Kill me and then you can leave… go do the greater good… be a fucking hero again.” When the former General looked away as though the very sight of his sword was killing him, Genesis followed his blade to the ground, knelt in front of his lover as he took up his sword and tried forcing the younger man’s leaden fingers around the hilt, closed his around them before pressing the cutting edge against the side of his neck. “Kill me.”

Emerald eyes widened in existential horror before the aforementioned moved.

Rapier was kicked away so fast it was a scarlet blur. Angeal yelped and there was the sound of something crashing-though not something glass and fluid-filled thankfully-and then the silver-haired man was crawling towards him, had taken up his hands in both of his and bowed his head over them in a supplicating gesture. The former Commander was having  _ none  _ of that shit, and he threw himself backwards, kicked out and away and when his partner followed he couldn’t help the angry,  _ wounded  _ vociferation that rose from the back of his throat. A scuffle-though on Sephiroth’s part it was more of a half-hearted defense. Hands grasping desperately-or furiously in Genesis’ case-the heated, mingled gasps of ragged breath, the thump of skin on skin when the older man managed to land a hit. And it was-he realized-so different from when they had physically fought before...when he'd been brought  _ so low _ , because even though he was lashing out his former comrade wasn't. Instead, he seemed to be trying to just get through to him, to communicate with him. 

“Genesis  _ please  _ stop!”

He was afraid. Genesis was afraid that if he stopped they were only going to be a culmination of their history, of brilliant entries and swift exits. A hand cupped a damp cheek and he swatted it away, snarled and lunged forward-tried to get to Rapier-only for his hips to be caught in a firm but careful hold. Forehead to forehead and the arc of bowed spines was evident in the throes of something agonizing but also something new. Because despite the violence Sephiroth was still touching him like he was something revered, like he was precious and important and Goddess the man was an  _ idiot.  _ But in his idiocy he was simple and somehow sweet and sometimes he was so sweet Genesis just wanted to claw his eyes out to get him to do something ugly. 

But Sephiroth wasn't going to do that, wasn't going to meet his cruelty with cruelty. And when they tumbled down to ground, when the silver-haired man's head hit the tiled flooring and he grimaced in pain he still reached out, even when the older man yanked roughly at a thread of moonlight colored hair he went with it, pale neck arched as green eyes narrowed with discomfort. Long hands grasped the back of his skull, brought him down to pillow his face in a familiar chest as the younger man's legs came up around his waist, as those fingers carded through his hair. Genesis made a sound that was half-sob half scream, and Sephiroth kissed the shell of his ear, tightened his hold somewhat but still gave him room to escape.

“ _ Please  _ Genesis.” He said thickly, and in his voice were unshed tears. “I'm not doing this to hurt you, because I want to leave you. I'm doing this because if I don't, we'll die anyway. And if there's the smallest chance of going home with you by doing this...I want to try. Because by choosing this I'm choosing  _ life,  _ the possibility of life with you.” When the older man didn't reply, he continued. “But if you don't want me to do this, I won't. We'll think of something else, together. I told you I wouldn't choose anything over us, and I won't.” 

The older man didn’t know what to do...he was frozen in his fear-laced rage, speechless and unable to think of an answer. When Angeal decided to finally speak, it was to utter the most idiotic comment of the century. “Genesis  _ please… _ ” And the dark-haired First’s voice was weary. “Wasn’t it  _ you  _ who said we were running out of time? Wasn’t it  _ you  _ who told me that the more time we wasted, the more possible it is for Vi-…! For  _ Vincent _ to be lost forever?” And it was horrible...both of his former comrades were the most backstabbing people he’d ever known… The firm hold around him went slightly lax as the redheaded ex-soldier sagged somewhat before freeing himself only to drop to the ground beside Sephiroth, with his back to the former and current Generals as he curled in on himself. 

“Sephiroth,  _ please… _ ” Angeal pleaded, and Genesis didn’t wait to hear the silver-haired man’s reaction.

“Go…” Whispering lowly and pressing azure eyes shut, the former Commander clenched his jaw. “ _ Go  _ to hell… both of you.” When a tentative hand touched his side, he flinched so vehemently and drew his legs even further inside that there was a quick rustle of cloth. There was a sigh, the shuffle of boots against the ground, and Genesis didn’t care whose it was as he added. “Send a tech to give me more mako.” A gravid pause as he opened his eyes to stare at the suspended figure inside the tank, before it blurred out of focus. “We’re gonna stay here, I’ll cast a wall around him.”

Sephiroth, it seemed, had run out of things to say. There was an air of despair emanating from him that he didn’t want to face. More prominent than his sense of resignation was the sense of rejection. And he knew there was a limit to how far he could push the younger man before he imploded, that they were very near to that limit already. There was the sense of egress, of distance and he shut his eyes, tried not to listen as the green-eyed ex-First moved, probably to talk to Angeal. 

“I’m sorry.” That deep baritone voice said, and it was heavy with defeat. “I wish this was easy.” His childhood friend made a strangled noise, a despairing noise. “Angeal,” When his partner spoke again his tone was barely a whisper. “ I don’t-” A pause. “-I  _ can’t.  _ We’re not meeting halfway, and it’s never going to stop like this...with one or both of us choosing extremes. And I’m  _ tired. _ ” 

“Your choices,” was the low response, heavy with grief. “Shouldn’t come with the lives of so many people hanging in the balance. Vincent wouldn’t have wanted that.” 

“And you know that you’re only saying that because you want him back.” was the gentle reply. “I know, do you think I don’t know what it’s like to lose? But you didn’t lose Vincent in a moment of hate, of tenuity. I can’t walk into my own possible death knowing I left the one person in the world who’s always stood up for me in a black well.” 

“He’s not the only person who cares about you.” was the hissed reply. “You’re both so  _ blind  _ to how many other people care-” The dark-haired First appeared to cut himself off before he said something regrettable. “-And I know. I know. I’m focused on him, but it’s hard not to. And Vincent would never give you that sort of ultimatum, would never shove it down your throat and force you to spit it out, dangle his affectations for you in front of you like a lure just to keep you close only to reject you when you didn’t do something he wanted you t-” 

“_-Stop_” Sephiroth’s tone was colder now. “Stop it. You can’t compare them, it’s not fair. People care differently, it doesn’t make them bad people, it just makes them individuals.” 

There was silence for a while, a rigid,  _ angry  _ sort of silence. The tech came in and there was the shuffle of clothes again, the thump of booted feet and he could see the edge of Angeal’s shoes reach the threshold of the door before he turned back. The chuckle that spilled from his childhood friend’s lips was bitter, and when he spoke it was directed at the youngest of the three of them. 

“You know,” He said frigidly. “You could have grown up  _ a lot  _ sooner than this, and it would have saved a lot of people a world of hurt.” 

He left. 

That left only two of them, and the tech really wasn’t important...it wasn’t like Genesis had any pride left to care about… had anything to care about…

That left only two of them and a whole burden of guilt and bitterness Angeal had forced onto them. And it wasn’t fair… it wasn’t fair for the dark-haired First to talk to Sephiroth like that, even with his degradation and Vincent’s loss considered. The redhead wanted to rise from where he was, did it but couldn’t bring himself to look at the former General, because this was all his fault...gazed at the floor instead and muttered quietly. “I’m sorry…” The tiredness Sephiroth had spoken of moments ago was reflected in Genesis’ voice this time. “I’m sorry for the shit he threw at you…but I’m not sorry for being fearful for your life… I’m not sorry for being afraid of the thought of returning home without you… I’m not sorry for dying a little every time I imagine a world without you in it…” This all he said to the floor, before raising a halting hand, following it with blue irises, and he was prepared for the younger ex-soldier to yank his hand aside when the tip of their fingers brushed together, but his lover didn’t. Just as hesitatingly, the scarlet-haired former Commander held onto ivory digits, just as tentatively chanced a glance at the handsome face that was hidden from his eyes by the silvery curtain of Sephiroth’s bangs. 

But not for long, however Genesis didn’t watch as his eyelids fluttered closed for the brief moment he brushed his lips against his lover’s knuckles, found that he couldn’t let go and pressed his cheek against the back of a pale palm. “I love you…” Didn’t open his eyes as he repeated. “I love you… I’ll be okay. Just…” His voice broke, tears coagulating in a hot unswallowable lump inside his throat. Choking on it, the redhead forced the words out. “ _ Just don’t leave me…  _ Do whatever you need to do...just return to me… I-I  _ can’t-...! _ ” Letting go, he looked down, hid behind his hair as it fell back in his face. When Sephiroth moved as if to comfort him, he hastily added, hugged himself. “I’ll be okay. I love you. Just...go.” And Genesis knew that it was a blatant lie, but hoped that his lover would be content with it, would look away just this once and leave it be.

“No.” 

Sephiroth said this tiredly, raggedly. 

“I made a decision without your consent again.” He continued. “That’s my fault, so don’t shoulder it. I...got caught up in the desperation of saving you and I didn’t think about the consequences, didn’t think of how it would affect you. That’s selfishness. I promised myself I wouldn’t succumb to that selfishness again.” A warm hand smoothed over his hair before retreating, the palm shaking slightly before it was steadied with an almost fierce sort of irritation. “And don’t be angry with Angeal. He didn’t mean a word of what he said, and we all can say stupid, hurtful things when we’re angry. Neither you nor I are any better, we’ve said terrible  _ horrible  _ things to him that he just brushed off...that he pushed aside because he’s always been ridiculously giving. He was giving when we thought you were dead, even when I was cruel to him...even when I left him to deal with so much by himself...alone. And now he’s alone again. You and I both know what it’s like to be that lonely, to be so convinced of the terribleness of others that you don’t care what you have to say to get other people to leave you. And I don’t think Angeal is there, but he’s...in pain. Pain makes us irrational people.” 

A pause as the younger man considered his words.

“But...he is right about us getting to this. I want a life with you Genesis, so let’s figure this out.” A tendril of consciousness brushed against his, supplicatingly. “Do you want to…?” 

The desire to give in was strong...to wade in the semblance of peace their mental link always provided, but they didn’t have time. They had already wasted enough time. “I don’t want to. Either of them, but in Omega’s case, I don’t think we have a choice.” Letting out a bitter  _ ‘hmph’ _ , the former Commander continued. “You asked me for better ideas, but I have none other than what I’ve already told you. And I don’t assume you have either, because you wouldn’t rush in to your  _ possible death _ as you so plainly stated before.” Gathering his resolve, or the tatters of it really, the redhead added, looking up as he tried memorizing the younger man’s gorgeous face for what seemed like an infinite number of times. “What I said still stands. And don’t think for one second that I’m going to stay here and watch you kill yourself. If we fall, we’ll fall together.”

Sephiroth’s smile was gentle, a little tenuous at the edges, but no less loving. And when he bent his head to steal a kiss, the curve of his mouth was softly joyful. He didn’t want to lose this Genesis acknowledged as he opened himself to the gesture-however briefly-and sometimes it was hard to acknowledge that the silver-haired man wasn’t consciously trying to  _ make  _ them lose it...but in moments like these...doubt was but a shadow. 

“You should know,” Sephiroth murmured against his lips. “That if I had to take that last step into the void with anyone, I would choose you. I’m sorry for wanting to keep you safe, because when I look at you, that’s all I want to do. And it’s not because I think you’re incapable.” He drew away, raised a silver brow. “It’s because I love you, unconditionally.” Another kiss, this time deeper and they both were forced to pull back to keep from getting to absorbed in it. Gently tapping the side of the older man’s nose, green eyes crinkled at the edges. “I’m always going to choose you...Genesis…”

“..Always.” 

And with that, Sephiroth was gone, leaving behind swirling wisps of corrupt Lifestream that Genesis wanted to hold close to his heart like any other facet of the younger man only to have them fade and vanish through his fingers. Standing up was a monumental effort when everything they knew was at stake, and while the redhead had no qualms about the world burning to the ground, he was going to try as hard as he could for their life together. But he did rise to his feet, muttered a ‘I’ll be right back’ to the tech who was trying to blend himself in the walls like a chameleon for being privy to what he shouldn’t have been, so he could inform Angeal and Reeve that they were in fact doing this. And to make them understand perfectly well that were something to happen to his lover, they wouldn’t need to fear Omega for wiping life off the face of the planet, because Genesis would do it, and he would do it with the fire of his sorrow and with the inferno of his grief.

So, when he left the room, he didn’t care that he was leaving a trail of shards behind himself, desperately held onto the flickering flame of hope that they’d have plenty of time to heal when this was all over.

Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in a row, that's got to be a new track record. Huh.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please bear with this chapter, there are some things that aren't what they seem. At the same time, it was crucial for them to happen in terms of the plot.

It was fortunate that Angeal-despite his anger-sent word to Junon ahead of time.

When Sephiroth appeared in the middle of the base, the few Soldiers stationed close to his sudden exit from the Lifestream jumped so high he was surprised they didn't lose their boots entirely. This was followed by a considerable amount of frantic scrambling and shouting and he was subsequently ' _ Sir _ !’ed and shoved into the stern visage of the stationed Commander. Said Commander barked at him for a few minutes about 'shenanigans’ in a tone that didn't entirely mask his fear before leading him to the Sister Ray and down to a control room near to the base. The silver-haired man stood wearily by as he was run through the intricacies of the simulation for the second time in his life. He'd participated in the placement of the massive cannon, however briefly, and he was intimately familiar with how it worked. As a very green cadet went through numerous calculation modules with the air of someone speaking at a funeral, the former General let his mind wander. 

He was... upset.

Frowning, the silver-haired ex-soldier furrowed his brows; that wasn't right. Dredging up his recollections of the hours before, he ignored the pain that came with them...focused on the core of it; he was..unhappy. Sephiroth ran a hand through his hair and tilted his head, nodding habitually as the cadet droned onward. It was such a dull emotive state; so simplistic in the face of all the complex emotions he'd had in the past. He appreciated Genesis’ complexities; it was one of the things that drew him to him. But lately, when it came to HQ, to AVALANCHE, to Omega...he felt like he was constantly floundering in order to keep his head above water. Things were starkly different here than they were in Funaraoi, and he didn't know how to conscience it. Because while he could bend in the face of the older man's tendency to be overwrought, there was a limit to how much you could bend before it became submission...placation simply for the sake of desperate temperance. 

Angeal's words hurt. 

There was the glaring reality that he could have chosen a different path... could have been a better man, a better General, a better friend...a better  _ lover.  _ And maybe this split, faceted version of Genesis was his own doing, which was why he always dug his heels in whenever he felt his own ire rise. And it was hard because there was a part of him that was inherently defensive...that  _ wanted  _ to defend himself because he had had so little opportunity to do so in his youth. This component of his psyche warred a constant battle with the part of his brain that insisted he needed to take the blame, calmly and fairly. And Angeal could call it maturity when it was really a terrible fear of never being enough, of losing the only person who occasionally saw him for who he really was. All his tenuous, sensitive words were truly just a poor mask for cowardice. It made him wonder if he was  _ using  _ Genesis-however inadvertently-to fuel his own sense of repentance. And there were times when his fear of inadequacy did garner rage, but it was a detached, indifferent sort of ire that was continuously displaced...because he didn't think he deserved to express it. 

There were times when he didn't know if he was what Genesis needed or if they were just irreparably broken individuals. Sephiroth had-often-banked on the concept of two halves making a whole, but you couldn't mend torn things with ripped patches. The cumulative result of such avenues was nothing but layered schism. And if it was enough, why did it always feel like they moved a step forward to take ten steps back? Tumbling over a precipice only to fall upwards instead of down? He'd tried to meet the older man in the middle, tried to respect his desire for unity after his poor choices. But it felt like whenever he moved to repair, the redhead did the exact opposite of his attempt at reconciliation; because he was still here...in Junon...facing the possibility of his death. And he didn't know if it was because the former Commander preferred to control the situation or because he needed that sense of separation because it was ultimately easier...expected. Then again, the sense of rebellion he had gathered from his partner could be just that... rebellion. Because Genesis hadn't gotten what he'd desired...though whatever that might be, he didn't know.

Sephiroth didn't know if that was love. 

“...Sir?”

Refocusing on the cadet, the green-eyed ex-First reflected that if another person called him ‘sir’ he was going to scream. It was petty, really. The fact that he could dismantle Chaos and suddenly win the favor of the men again. Monsters killing monsters...his lip curled involuntary. And maybe he had never lost that aura of status, maybe it was just formality, the idealisms of it escaped him. But he didn't want that pedestal anymore, didn't want that recognition any more than he wanted to be conflicted about his romantic idealisms. Clearing his throat, Sephiroth pushed his morbid musings aside. 

“We need to move it.”

Mako-infused eyes widened in confusion.

“Si-?!”

“-If you call me 'Sir’ one more time I'm going to fire you from the cannon.” The silver-haired man said flatly. “We both know it's not an accurate title.”

The cadet flushed scarlet. 

“Yes-si-yes, right, okay. Sorry it's just a habit.”

The green-eyed ex-First waved an idle hand.

“Understandable, but still unnecessary.”

“We can't move the cannon.” The recruit continued after apparently regathering himself. “It’s not been mobile for years.”

“Still.” Sephiroth said dourly. “It was  _ built _ to be mobile. I trust you can figure something out.” He paused. “I'm going to refill the reserves before you move it. In the event that I don't... return in time, I trust you have a marksman with the capability of estimating a trajectory with as little extraneous damage as possible.”

“Well s-mister-uh-Mr. Sephiroth-” A wince as green eyes narrowed. “-It depends on the volatility of what you’re providing.”

The former General considered the question. In truth, he didn't know what condensed Corrupt Lifestream would do when utilized as a weapon of mass destruction. Coupled with the fact that it carried Jenova cells, he was fairly sure nothing positive other than Omega’s demise would result. If it acted anything like it did when he formulated it for spacial traverse, there was bound to be some circumventive fallout. 

“It's not volatile per se,” He said flatly. “But it can be unpredictable.” Pushing himself away from the monitor, he paused briefly. “I'm going to get started, it would be prudent if you cleared the Sister Ray for now, for safety precautions.”

The cadet hesitated before nodding jerkily.

“Understood.”

Watching the recruit go, Sephiroth acknowledged that  _ 'understood’  _ didn't necessarily mean ' _ obeyed _ ’ but there was nothing he could do about it regardless. Exiting the control room soon after, he let his steps take him from the base to the reactor... ignoring the stares and occasional nod he received. Some of the individuals he passed were his men, but they seemed reluctant to acknowledge his presence, and he was fine with that. He’d known what he was leaving behind when he chose madness over military. Regret was a prominent thing, but it was far more complex and spanned to vaster and more important topics than those he had commanded. 

The Sister Ray's reserves were situated just underneath the cannon in nondescript but large capsules. Normally, a tubing system would have been connected to the Junon reactor, but it was absent as personnel prepared the weapon for transport. Only a lone guard remained, and he gave the silver-haired ex-soldier a nervous glance as he slung his pack over his shoulder and walked hurriedly toward the exit. Sephiroth ignored the disturbance and instead tilted his head upwards, gazed at the massive heft of what he could see of the barrel and tried not to let his mind wander to what had occurred the last time he had been so close to the cannon. It had-of course-been a simulation, but it didn't make the memory any less painful. And here he was again... offering sacrifice because he was too stupid or the universe was too cruel to provide another way. There was a part of him that wished for death, because he didn't know if peace would make anything better. And if it did, he didn't know if it was his own illusionment or reality when it came to perceived positivity. 

_ “...Like a lure.” _

Sephiroth gritted his teeth, bowed his head and strode forward, his hair swinging over his shoulder as he disengaged the latch that fed into the conjoined capsules. The metallic bang hurt his ears nearly enough to drown out the agony in his soul. Nearly. Because while he could smile at Genesis...while he could kiss him and profess the very real truth of his love, he couldn't expect constance. It was cruelly unfair of him to do so. Black Lifestream gathered under his fingertips...rose to encompass his vision and he had a brief sensation of foreboding before he pushed it aside in order to focus. There was-immediately-the sense of drainage. Sephiroth used the Corrupt Lifestream as a vessel and an armament, but he had never attempted to separate himself from it before. It was a strange feeling, one he could only compare to the loss of magic. After a few minutes, he was feeling distinctly weak and he'd barely scratched the surface. Resignedly, he acknowledged that this was going to hurt. 

A lot.

He wasn't wrong, though there did eventually come a point when he couldn't feel anything anymore...weakened as he was. The reserves in front of him filled with black, seething essence and he in turn was left bereft. Unlike other times-the majority of times-when he'd been wounded, there wasn't any blood. Sephiroth's epidermis broke out in a cold sweat and his fingers trembled as he attempted to maintain. The world tilted and he was distantly aware that he had dropped to his knees, that his skin was greyish in color. And he was chasing a silver-haired boy down a long dark corridor that never seemed to end. That boy turned into a teenager, and then into a man and still he couldn't catch him. And the phantasm of himself was somehow happier, somehow successful in ways that he had only dreamed of being... though how he was able to discern that he didn't know. Heartbeat, breath and bone and the world was a spiral of bleeding black necrosis but he couldn't  _ stop... _ he wasn't finished. 

…He survived.

'Survived’ was a questionable term, because when the troops finally gathered enough bravery to check on him he was cold and unresponsive. He came to in a makeshift sickbay with a gaggle of Soldiers arguing about whether they ought to ship him out to Midgar. This was enough to rouse him enough to refuse. Because if he returned to HQ hurt he'd inevitably be a liability...a point of focus. So when he swore the individuals around him to secrecy in regards to how much it had cost him, he did it with the knowledge that he was prioritizing more important things. Nobody needed to know... especially not Genesis…

... Genesis could never know.

* * *

People were rushing all around him, seemingly in random directions, however, Angeal vaguely knew that they were all getting away from the headquarters, away from the vicinity of the entity. His eyes roamed over his men who were ushering the populace, heard his own voice-as though from miles away-as he joined in giving directions to the crowd, as he barked orders once in a while. The General knew that all of them were on some emergency-situation autopilot that was drilled into their heads from the very first days of the SOLDIER program. He knew that they all felt the instinctual doomsday clock ticking over their heads; that his men were just as panicked as the ordinary man and woman who was running down the streets but they had to stand their ground because of the notions they had tried so hard to uphold. 

Minutes were ticking by, and while the dark-haired soldier knew that they were at this for probably hours now, it all felt like some slow motion clip cut from a silent film.

Everything about this was eerie. Everything about it was so hard to believe, as if they had all woken up in the morning only to be plunged into a nightmare immediately upon awakening. And while his nightmare was much more personal, much more heart-rending to push through, it had quickly turned to something more world-wide. Angeal couldn’t ignore the fact that if they didn’t act swiftly, there would be no one...nothing...and they hadn’t even told the crowd what this colossal creature was, what it was doing; he could see the questions, the betrayal, the fear in their eyes as they passed him by, but now was not the time. 

If the crowd had been frightened and disorganized, when strange beings manifested from thin air to act like grim reapers among them, they were chaotic then and that was an understatement. SOLDIER was now facing a stampede, and not only they had to maintain peace, they had to fight these dark phantoms that appeared randomly and out of nowhere. Dispatching them, thankfully, was an easy task, but there were casualties among civilians who were unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. There were shouts of fear, cries of agony, and while the premises were evacuated more than less, they now had to divide in order to search the rest of the city for these ghost-like adversaries. 

Glancing back toward the HQ every once in a while, the only thing that kept him putting one foot after another as they led him further and further away from where his lover was dying inside a tank of shimmering green was the fact that Genesis had cast a wall around Vincent. That as long as the tiny, winged shadow was still flying around the building-currently doing his magic-was breathing and alive, the crimson-eyed gunslinger would be safe from whatever which could pose a threat to him.

Feeling drained of the anger he’d felt back then, Angeal couldn’t help but feel a suffocating amount of guilt for saying what he had said. The dark-haired First wasn’t naive enough to believe that there was a simple way to unsay what he had uttered. Knew that while what he’d spoken had stemmed from the grief of losing every single person he’d ever loved, one after another in such quick succession that he wondered how he was still alive, it still didn't justify hurting other people, people he  _ loved _ because he himself was hurting… Goddess only knew how much he wanted to apologize, to both Sephiroth and Genesis. To Sephiroth who had comforted him, despite his own pain… To the same silver-haired man who had put aside his own grief in favor of Angeal’s comfort, that was putting his life on the line in order to do something that could possibly save them all. To Genesis who had left the safety of the home Shinra had given them to come all the way to this wretched place to find a cure for him… The same redhead who was now erecting a barrier so huge the Banoran hadn’t seen him cast one like it since the middle years of the war; just to protect the very headquarters that had been the house of so many nightmares for him…to protect the man whom he’d been jealous of his relationship with his son…

Angeal wanted to say sorry, but he had to wait, even knowing the fact that there might be no time left for him to apologize once it was over. For better or for worse.

They had to rely on somewhat antiquated terms of communication because of the power outage; had communicated with Junon to confirm the trajectory of the blast and dispatched a portion of the SOLDIER and infantry to take people to safety in the related areas. He’d been slicing through another soul-eating abomination when his walkie-talkie fizzed and crackled before coherent words came out of it in the form of confirmation for firing the Sister Ray. The blue-eyed General had to check out with the other Firsts undertaking the task of evacuation before asking Genesis about the barrier and replying his A-Okay to Reeve.

Angeal didn’t know how long it took, busy with dispatching enemies and getting people to safety as he was, but soon there was the sensation of imminent doom, making all the hair on his person stand on end as he looked up at the sky. For an infinitesimal moment, a heart-crushing dread constricted his heart so hard he nearly choked as he tried to make out the miniscule silhouette of his childhood friend against the bleak backdrop, couldn’t, so he prayed to any deity who was listening to keep both Genesis and Vincent safe. And then, there was a howl of wind, or maybe it was the black seething ball of condensed corrupt Lifestream as it streaked across the already dark sky to hit the abomination dead center. The former Commander couldn’t help but stand where he’d been, frozen and dumbfounded as the ghoulish monsters disappeared all at once, as the glowing green that ran along the limbs of the entity flickered and died. As though hit by a giant Blizzaga, a blue light rushed up from where its leg components were rooted into the ground to encompass the entirety of his torso. Upper still, and the viridescent shimmering wings too, turned a stone-colored grey.

For a whole minute, it seemed they had actually won as everyone watched the armageddon harbinger with bated breath.

But their victory lasted only as long as that breath.

Electricity-like crackles of light started appearing on the statue-esque creature, traversing the gigantic body of it to accumulate in its wings, where they started glowing a blinding bluish-white hue. And when the vast luminescent wings of Lifestream spread across the sky, Angeal nearly dropped to his knees, before quickly radioing Reeve to tell him to order the Sister Ray to be fired again. Because they couldn’t let Omega get away, and when the President agreed, when their conversation ended, the dark-haired First dropped the walkie-talkie to the ground, watched as those massive plumages flapped, and soon the whole city was shrouded by a turrent of unstoppable wind.

There was nothing he could do now, but wait. 

If the summon succeeded, he wouldn’t have to for long.

* * *

_ ‘You bring him pain…’ _

And he’d nearly dropped out of the sky.

_ ‘He raped you because you were leaving him… you were his only thread connecting him to humanity and you cut it off…’ _

Genesis had countered it with a resounding no, but that didn’t change the verity of those words.

_ ‘You keep hurting him… even though you don’t mean to… even if he hides it really well…’ _

And he’d wanted to deny it outright, couldn’t because it wasn’t a lie. He couldn’t know if Sephiroth was hiding it without using their mental link, but  _ No _ ; he wouldn’t use it to sneak up on his lover, he couldn’t. 

It’d been hard to focus on the spell with the litany of voices whispering in his head, but he’d managed it nonetheless...the weight of the invisible dome erected over the headquarter and the vicinity of it pushed down on his psyche and his brain enough that he simply had no energy left to slam barriers against his thought processes. Genesis nearly dropped like a stone to where a tech was standing a couple of feet away from Reeve, some of the executives-who were actually sympathetic to their cause more than they were to their lives-and a handful of Turks.

_ ‘How does it feel, I wonder?... To be in love with someone so utterly superior to yourself?’ _

The scarlet-haired man had nearly doubled over as the memory had resurfaced, had to grit his teeth while he accepted the mako drink that was handed to him. Everything was jarring in its acuity, the sensory information overloading the portion of his brain that wasn’t already burdened with the strength of his spell.

_ ‘And Vincent would never give you that sort of ultimatum, would never shove it down your throat and force you to spit it out, dangle his affectations for you in front of you like a  _ ** _lure _ ** _ just to keep you close only to reject you when you didn’t do something he wanted you to.’ _

Pressing his eyes shut, it was so damnably hard to keep the hurt simmering just underneath the surface, but he somehow managed it. Had to manage it because there was no other alternative.

_ ‘You’re broken… too broken, even for him… Look at him now… all mature… all grown up… he has a father now… he can have a normal life… without you.’ _

And Genesis wanted to protest…but he was so tired… Tired of always hurting Sephiroth… of always bickering… and he could only imagine just how much the younger man was weary… how much he was weary of having to put up with his theatrics… had always known that;

_ ‘‘He deserves better…’’ _

_ ‘You’re pathetic… You’re expendable, so mind your own affairs.’ _

_ ‘A liability…’ _

_ ‘We’re not meeting halfway, and it’s never going to stop like this...with one or both of us choosing extremes. And I’m  _ ** _tired_ ** _ .’ _

_ ‘That part of me  _ ** _doesn’t_ ** _ love you, Genesis.’ _

It felt like his heart was throbbing so hard against his ribcage that it’d beat itself into a bloody pulp before tearing free. At the same time, agony and anguish had been expanding inside him, engulfing the entirety of his being… His heart hurt…  _ so much _ … so much so that he’d clutched his shirt over it and bit his lip so hard it had bled.

Tuesti had radioed the all-clear for the cannon to be fired, and Genesis hadn’t known how long it took, but he’d been able to sense it way before it reached the perimeter of the metropolis… Felt it to his very bones… 

Heard her voice.

_ “You can have a normal life…” _

Had been hearing it all along.

And recollections he hadn’t experienced played in front of his eyes… Of Sephiroth holding onto someone that wasn’t him… kissing him… cradling and caressing him with the same air of reverence that was reserved for  _ him _ ...and Genesis couldn’t remember… couldn’t remember any of these… 

_“You’re strong… you’re beautiful and brilliant… like the first time the sun shines over the horizon of _a new planet…_”_

And Goddess knew how much the redhead wanted to cradle those words against his aching heart…

_ “But Goddess left you… remember? Wutai? Hojo? Deepground?” _

For a moment, he wondered if the pain would ever cease… if it wasn’t simply a facet ingrained in his soul, that ridding himself of it would mean trying to rid himself of the shimmering tapestry of a handsome visage; a visage with glimmering emerald oceans, alabaster plains and the perfect bow of soft sakura trees.

_ “I know you love him,  _ my son _ .” _

It didn’t even take him an instant to agree with her.

_ “So you know…that you have to let him go… Let him go if you want him to live a better life… even if it breaks your heart.” _

The blast hit.

They ordered the Sister Ray to fire again.

_ “You have to let him go… Like he let you go… like he left you alone… again…” _

Genesis straightened, and it was hard, felt like his spine might crack in half but he did so anyway; closed his eyes as the shockwave passed through him and past him, handed his walkie-talkie to the stunned lab assistant who was standing frozen in his spot before walking past the event horizon of his Wall despite the worried voices calling his name. 

He didn’t need her to tell him that Sephiroth was dead...because why would she come to him when she still could whisper sweet nothings in the silver-haired man’s psyche? Why would she choose him when his lover could have still regenerated his body in Northern Crater and come back to life again, a heartless one-winged angel hellbent on destroying the world? It proved the fear he’d had earlier-Genesis acknowledged numbly, because what use did it have now-that the corrupt Lifestream was somehow bound to his partner’s essence...that by draining himself of it, his companion had effectively committed suicide...that Sephiroth was the one that got away this time…that he’d left him alone again... 

Instead of feeling angry, instead of feeling sad, he felt numb. 

He recognized it as apathy...because surely there were bound to be feelings there somewhere, but right now, he had his sights set on one thing.

_ Monsters only think about one thing. World domination, or revenge.  _

Or maybe, destruction.

Annihilation.

Some small part of him begged him to go to their mental link, and he did...but not to call his lover, but to leave a Banora White there… Effervescent like how he always saw the younger man…as a symbol of his love, and as an apology…even though he knew no one awaited him on the other end. Knew that by the end of this, it wouldn’t matter…nothing would exist for it to matter.

No bridge.

No apple.

No Sephiroth. 

And no Genesis.

_ “Come my son… Come, and I will heal your bleeding heart…” _

He sagged, stumbled even from the burden of it all...but more crushing was the ache in his heart…heard Rapier’s tip scrape against the asphalt as he continued to drag one leaden foot ahead of another… 

Oh how much he had loved Sephiroth…

The name passed through his lips in a quiet longing whisper that was taken away by the wind.

_ “I will love you.” _

_ No. _ Genesis countered.  _ We won’t call this love. If you’re gonna use me… then use me up. _

There was a sinister chuckle, resounding in the barren oasis inside him.  _ “Very well.” _

He felt darkness rise up inside and outside him… a black so noir a moonless starless night paled in comparison to it.

Pain, and there was no warmth to it. There was no motherly embrace…even though it had been promised, and Genesis was slightly grateful that she had the decency to spare him, to let the veil of lies and half-truths fall away, and show herself to him as she truly was. A harbinger of death…even though she had the ability to give life… like a  _ mother _ …breathtakingly beautiful in her extraterrestrial glory and magnificent femininity, and yet so grotesquely horrifying he couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down his spine.

Cold. He was so cold.

And he choked as it rose up the back of his throat, wondered briefly if he was hallucinating her as black spidery talons wrapped around his neck, smeared the thick onyx pouring over the seam of his mouth across his lips; distantly heard himself howl in agony as he was brought down to one knee. 

The image of Sephiroth who was saying yes to his date flashed across his psyche in a streak of gold and platinum before it was whisked away by long slender fingers that came with the promise of gentleness but were razor sharp as she reached inside him with her claws and crushed his heart...left him bleeding and broken before the tears in the burning trails down his cheeks caught fire.

_ “Be risen.” _

When he finally did, it was through an inferno of flames like a phoenix.

But he wasn’t, he was no symbol of revival and indomitable life.

He was the very Grim Reaper himself.

The end of all ends.

The black that suffused his physicality put the void to shame, seemed to suck light in from around him as Genesis looked up with black-rimmed eyes at the monstrosity that was coming to life from being a stone statue. Picturing the concept of flight, he rose in a streak of black and fire, raising the scythe in his hand toward the overcast sky, watched as shimmering red runes lined with black appeared against the tufty tapestry of clouds. He flew through them, higher and higher, before coming to a halt. The redhead hovered for a moment, watched the wings of light spread afar below him; they flapped and then the entity rose.

Right then, he swooped, mustering all the magic left in him, the power Jenova had vested in him to meet Omega head on. For a brief moment, he thought he saw a flash of red and violet, very much like Chaos but that could have been Apocalypse as he released the spell… The runes wrapped around him in a vortex of hellish flames and reddish-purple thunder, concentrated at the tip of his scythe where it glowed like the sun at the edge of the horizon at dawn… All-encompassing...becoming greater and hotter and Genesis could almost feel the heat against skin…sensed the next blast of corrupt Lifestream at the edges of his consciousness, but it was all too vague… The cry Jenova gave inside him was muted compared to how wind was howling in his ears as he plummeted…no less painful, however, as she screeched and clawed against his tattered psyche, but it was already too late…

Genesis prepared himself for collision, couldn’t hear himself yell as a blinding light encompassed his vision.

He smiled.

And his whole world exploded.

* * *

Sephiroth returned to HQ when he felt he was fully recovered.

Summoning his armor from the Corrupt Lifestream, he'd flown back to HQ to find Omega gone. He had-effectively-missed pretty much everything, but he was strangely at peace with it. What he was  _ not  _ at peace with was the fact that Genesis had evidently disappeared in a conflagration of fire and was fairly positively presumed dead. Strangely, when a hysterical Angeal informed him of the fact, he was incapable of breaking apart over it. A part of him screamed that this was the reaction of a psychopath, but he'd already seen Genesis die once, and their reunion had never seemed solid in the first place. There was also the singular truth that at no point after their reunion had the redhead been happy for any great length of time. As he stood numbly in the middle of Administration while his lover's childhood friend stumbled through an account of what had happened, he acknowledged that maybe Genesis would be happier in death than he'd ever been alive. Less broken...less agonized...and more importantly, less tethered to someone so inherently inadequate. 

Some facet of his psyche insisted that that was an unfair assessment. 

Sephiroth knew he had  _ tried,  _ but a larger section of his mentality insisted that it wasn't enough. There was a virulent margin of his mentality that wanted to go back in time...to go back to the reactor and sap himself of virility until he never woke up...but that was a selfish outlook, a self-pitying outlook. He had-at the very least-Angeal. And Angeal would need him now, more than he ever had because he had tried so hard to make something from the carnage he'd created only to be given nothing. This sort of outlook was new; he'd never taken his comrades into consideration before...never made allowances for anyone other than Genesis before. But there was an additional part of him that had learned from death, had learned from loneliness that some paths were not worth taking twice, no matter how great the pain. 

And he was in pain. 

Because wherever he looked he saw the older man, saw him laughing in the corners of darkened cubicles, striding through empty hallways, winking at the phantasm of a hapless secretary. But that's all such recollections were; ghosts. Memories from before they were ever together, before the culmination of their doomed romance had resulted in so much agony, so much betrayal and slaughter. The Genesis of recent days had rarely laughed, rarely smiled unless it was something tenuous. And the shadows in those cerulean eyes had twisted him into knots because he didn't know how to  _ fix  _ them; because he didn't know how to take the former Commander's pain and make it into happiness. And there was the truth that if they had remained on Funaraoi none of this would have happened; because Angeal was still dying, and he couldn't imagine the guilt the dark-haired First was feeling, couldn't imagine the blame he was shouldering. 

And so when the blue-eyed Soldier embraced him under the pretense of reassurance, had tugged at his lapels until they fell to the floor and then sobbed like his soul was shattering he allowed it. It was a helpless feeling, a lost feeling and he didn't know how to make it better,  _ had never known how to make things better.  _

An errant apology was muttered into his pauldrons, something about what Genesis’ childhood friend had said and Sephiroth had laughed because he didn't  _ care _ , didn't need to hear such things anymore to forgive. He'd put a hand on a broad shoulder and told the man staining his collar that there wasn't anything to forgive. And still they were here, such wholly different people, the contrast so staggeringly obvious it was somewhat overwhelming. Because Angeal had chosen honor and he had chosen dishonor only for them to end up with equal loss. When the blue-eyed soldier pulled away, sat back on his heels and looked at the floor, Sephiroth said the only thing he could think of saying. 

“This isn't your fault.”

Maybe it was weird that Angeal thanked him then, in the weary, somewhat croaky tone when he’d stumbled over words exactly as he had before, about how Chaos had separated from Vincent, and had left his father in the state that he was now. 

With Genesis having blown up the reactors to stop Omega from sapping the Lifestream from them, the city seemed to be forever enshrouded in darkness, and while the auxiliary power units could support the emergency electric circuit of the headquarters it was nowhere near adequate to get the the tower running enough so that all the personnel could start working on how to fix the problems they now had on their hands.

Administration had wanted to drag both him and Angeal to a board meeting but the dark-haired First had waved them off, and offered to take Sephiroth to his living quarters to drink their sorrows away. While the idea of consuming so much alcohol he’d be barely coherent wasn’t something he’d agree with, the idea of attending a Board meeting was significantly worse. 

Checking Vincent’s mako tank on their way toward the older man’s residence, they found everything pretty much as they had left it; only the Wall that Genesis had promised to cast was now effectively gone. Passing through disabled open doors, Sephiroth didn’t allow himself to linger on the implications of that fact, didn’t let the foreboding sensation that seemed to always accompany him inside the Science Division bother him more than it always did. Despite all the things that seemed to be going wrong in their lives-and now with Omega taken care of-Vincent’s rehabilitation seemed to be the only thing making a semblance of progress in the right direction.

Descending flight after flight of stairs, they found themselves inside the darkness of Angeal’s apartment, and while the dark-haired First was rummaging in his kitchen cabinets for candles using the dim light of his phone screen, he asked Sephiroth to find them something to drink.

“Genesis gave me these, ages ago.” The blue-eyed General finally broke the silence, set a cardboard box of candles on the countertop, and started lighting them one after another as he placed them around the house in quick succession. “Never felt the need to use them until now. The irony.” The yellow light threw his former comrade’s features in sharp relief before he moved, continuing as he started distributing the glims in the living room. “That we get to do this after all this time only when we’re both suffering such great losses.” There was a gravid pause, Angeal standing by the TV table for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was low, breaking. “Vi-...! _He_ would have liked to have you both here… doing nothing, just talk. Like you and I.” And when he moved away, Sephiroth could see a frame lit by a flickering flame. 

He found a bottle of vodka, which really wasn’t much to share between a Soldier and a former Soldier with mako in their systems, but it would do. It took more rummaging to procure two glasses, but he was successful nevertheless. The silver-haired man paused when his eyes located a red bandanna placed lovingly next to what he assumed was Vincent’s pack by the door. The sight of it caused an ache deep in his chest, because it seemed like the dark-haired First had placed it there on purpose...like he was just waiting for the older man to come home. He couldn’t look long, couldn’t bear the sight of it because the pain of it was too paramount and too close. He hoped-sincerely-that whatever the Science Division was formulating in terms of the Jenova Cells would work, because he didn’t think he could conscience another death. There was a very obvious sense of emptiness in him, of something gone that he could never get back. He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t replaced by the dark, roiling bloodlust that had consumed him the last time he thought Genesis was gone. Instead he forced himself to consider the fact that it seemed like a colorless temperance, an acceptance of the inevitability of loss.

A void...but a tranquil void.

…When he was being truthful with himself...he knew that it was a lie.

Rather than focusing on it, he settled with pouring them both drinks, downing his glass quickly and reaching for another. He’d really only turned to alcohol soon before he’d left HQ the last time...before he’d razed Shinra Mansion to the ground. And he’d only utilized it to keep the murderous emotions that inundated him on a daily basis at bay. Here, it was habitual, because he’d been invited to do it and he wanted to feel  _ nothing... _ not emptiness, and not sorrow. Angeal returned and took up his beverage, giving him a look that was somewhat tinged with concern but too weary to really say anything. The former General ignored it, focused instead of finding the bottom of his second glass; reaching for the bottle yet again and sitting back to toy with the rim of his cup. A little over a year of abstinence made it easier to find that fuzzy, warm place that was so deceptively sedate. 

“He always wanted to be the hero.” Sephiroth said dully. “And now he is.” The moment the phrase left his lips, he regretted it. Blue eyes took on a somewhat shuttered, defensive look and he opened his mouth once more. “I shouldn’t have said that.” He muttered. “But it’s easier to look at it from an immature standpoint than to face it for what it really is.” A shrug and he tossed his head back to chase the dregs of liquid narcosis. When he was done he felt somewhat nauseous but reached forward again anyway, pushing his hair back as he did so and chuckling bitterly. “I mean, what was the point of all this if I lose Genesis?” Long fingers fumbled with the bottle-nearly dropped it-before getting a more solid hold. “And why even try if peace doesn’t bring anyone happiness anyway?” Bleary green eyes cut to Angeal. “We weren’t getting anywhere regardless.” 

The aforementioned man was quiet and contemplative-pretty much like his past self and the Angeal he used to know-his eyes not looking at him before the dark-haired soldier threw back his drink, glanced at Sephiroth’s visage before looking at the bottle and rising to probably fetch them another one. 

“I know what you mean, but we saved people… not necessarily people that matter to you, but we did the right thing.” The older man waved a hand, while still with his back to the silver-haired ex-First to probably stop whatever rebuttal he had to utter. “I know you don’t care about that either… But about Genesis… even though I’m sure you know him better than anyone now…” His former comrade returned, bottle in hand, and just as deep in thought as he’d been. “If there’s anyone that could-...could  _ have _ made him as happy as I’ve seen, it was you.” Angeal’s fingers plucked the frame from on top of the TV before offering it to him. “Vincent found it.” And if the hand holding the image was trembling, Sephiroth decided to chalk it up to his inebriation rather than his lover’s childhood friend’s sentimentality.

The picture hurt too much to look at very long.

Mostly because Genesis was laughing, and the Genesis in his mind and the one in the frame didn’t match up. 

“I barely remember it.” He commented, tilting his head and squinting slightly.

Angeal sank down on the couch next to him and he took the opportunity to snatch the bottle from him and take a long draw before it was just as quickly jerked away. The General leaned forward somewhat, as if to get a better look and he allowed the nearness because it was somewhat comforting and because he didn’t think he was going to be able to get up even if he wanted to. And he didn’t want to think back on that day, about how simple it was, despite the fact that at the time, it had seemed anything but simple. 

“And I didn’t know him better.” Sephiroth muttered. “Sometimes it felt like I hardly knew him at all...like I was chasing a phantom.” The world grew somewhat woolier and he was forced to set the picture down before he dropped it. “Sometimes it felt like he hated me and then sometimes it felt like I was the most important thing in…” The silver-haired man frowned and tried to think of the word. “...The moon.” 

This time the vodka was willingly proffered and he took it because he figured if he was going to die of alcohol poisoning it was probably the least melodramatic way to go. By the time he handed it back the room was spinning and he wasn’t entirely sure which way was up. To ameliorate-and try to conceal-his complete state of incoherency he attempted to sit up straighter and ended up half sprawled over his former comrade’s lap with his head on his shoulder. Frowning, he blinked and then blinked again...which didn’t help anything. Resignedly, he acknowledged that Angeal was kind of soft and it wasn’t like he was going anywhere anytime soon. 

The photo was set aside on the coffee table, seemed to be somewhat swimming a little on its place as Angeal’s other hand raised the bottle to the older man’s lips. Taking a swig, the green-eyed individual didn’t need to look up to see the dark-haired First grimacing through the bitterness before he spoke. “He loved you for as long as I remember. Hid it behind jokes and tried to forget it, put a damper on it by having sex, drinking, and you know…” A wave of a hand, another gulp, and the bottle was also put aside. “Didn’t work.” A big palm snaked between them to hold onto Sephiroth’s shoulders, tightening gently. “You were precious to him in ways his own life wasn’t for him.” Blearily, the younger man thought that his former comrade was about to continue, but didn’t, instead pulled Sephiroth more against himself and leant back into the couch, and it was soothing how Angeal’s fingers were absentmindedly carding through his hair.

It was good.

Frowning a little bit, Sephiroth acknowledged that maybe _ 'comforting’  _ was a better terminology, but the specifics eluded him. And those large, calloused palms were soothing; the roughness of them familiar and yet not. An identifiable, hot sensation was pooling in his belly; something a part of him insisted he  _ shouldn't _ be feeling but the reasoning in terms of why was evasive and muddled. Licking his lips the silver-haired man leaned into the touch, let his eyes follow the slope of a stubbled jaw to a full mouth that always seemed so stern with heavy lids. Unconsciously, he let his fingers rise to trace the contour of that smattering of hair and in his drunken state the texture was fascinating. Rough-smooth and perfectly aligned...like sandpaper and yet not half as abrasive. Index and ring of wavering digits found parted lips and he let the pads of them trace the silk of a lower vermilion. The upper half of his torso rose soon after, hair hanging heavy behind as he took in the visage before him, longish dark hair, sharp features and...eyes... sapphire eyes. Breathing in sharply Sephiroth ignored the part of him that whispered something was wrong and tilted his head, brought it forward inch-by-inch until he could thread his fingers through dark hair and draw the blue-eyed First into a light kiss...a brush of the lips really, nothing more. 

“Maybe,” He slurred somewhat. “He could've told me more often…”

A faraway phantasm whispered something in his head, but it was quickly forgotten because right at that moment, the fingers in his hair fell to his hip, nudging him up and on the blue-eyed individual’s lap while another hand- _ calloused _ -settled on the side of his neck. For a moment, Sephiroth gazed from underneath heavy lids as those sapphire eyes widened somewhat, some sort of longing recognition flickering in them as those black pupils dilated, and soon hot lips found his again, feeding him a moan as digits plunged in the fall of his hair. There was the flutter of strands against fingertips as they dived in his silvery mane, pulled it aside and over his shoulder. It was then too much of an effort to keep his eyes open, instead, he gave himself over to the comforting feel of that hand in his hair, the warm virility of the body under him, and the moist softness of the mouth closing over his. Something inside him was cataloguing the sensations he was feeling and trying to compare them with something…something…but he kept getting distracted by the timid hint of a tongue against his bottom lip. Pulling back for a moment of hot ragged breathing, a big palm curled around his right forearm, brought it forward to press a kiss to the underside of his wrist as a word fell from pale lips between them, but it was too low, too slurred.

Tenderness...that was new. Not that he wasn't used to tenderness but this was a new mannerism of gentleness. There wasn't the brash exoticism behind it, the sense of smoldering sarcasm mixed with terrible sweetness that he was accustomed to. No, this was so soft it was almost  _ too  _ soft but it was still good in a foreign way, tilting his head, Sephiroth refocused on kissing; met that uncertain tongue with his own, flicked experimentally and acknowledged a difference of taste before nibbling just slightly and feeling a thrill run through him as he received the same in return. And the hands on him were different, bigger, somehow more encompassing but less possessive and the spot on his lips  _ burned  _ but not in that aching, all-consuming manner he was so familiar with. And he wanted, wanted to be thrown down somewhere nondescript where he was nameless. Wanted to be taken fiercely and roughly while a velvety voice purred obscenities into his ear. But he didn't know if the  _ who  _ factor was right and he had so little experience with submission in the first place. He made a low noise, something desperate and very confused and the quiet noise he received in response was of equal befuddlement. 

The hand on the nape of his neck was descending, their kiss breaking again for a moment and this time Sephiroth heard it. 

“ _ Vincent… _ ”

They both froze at that exact moment. There was a creak of leather where  _ Angeal’s  _ calloused fingers tightened minutely against the lapels of his collar before sapphire eyes snapped open, and as though broken from a trance, onyx brows furrowed as a different sort of recognition flashed in fading blue irises before they were suffused by guilt; and while Sephiroth was scrambling somewhat to  _ get off _ the older man’s lap, the dark-haired First somewhat gently yet hastily pushed him aside to quickly put an acceptable distance between them. The General had his back to him, hunched over with one hand bracing him on the countertop of the kitchen while another rose shakily, but the green-eyed ex-First couldn’t see what it was doing and frankly he was in a  _ really  _ strange mental and physical state at the moment. He was sure of his inebriation, but the realization of what he had done was quickly pushing back the heavy haze in his brain.

Guilty.

Sephiroth felt  _ guilty.  _ And he was  _ angry  _ at himself for feeling guilty because technically his partner was dead-granted he hadn’t been dead very long, and that wasn’t an excuse to  _ ‘whore himself out’ _ as Genesis would put it-but he was still angry for letting his feelings get in the way of his decisions. Angeal was a different story, and he sincerely wished he had pulled something so ridiculously stupid on anyone other than Angeal. Because Angeal was not single, his lover still had the possibility of living through this and he had blatantly ignored that. Both of them had, but the silver-haired man was more inclined to think of himself as the responsible party because Angeal had known Genesis longer than him and was therefore most likely far more distraught over his death. There was also the glaring fact that the dark-haired General probably didn’t get wasted very often no matter what the occasion, while his track-record was inundated with lonely nights of insobriety and sincere regret. No, he was the one who should, feasibly, have been more responsible. Sephiroth staggered up from the couch-because he did  _ not  _ want to sit on a couch where he’d been making out with his deceased lover’s best friend-and promptly tripped over the coffee table. He righted himself out of what he was convinced was sheer luck and took another step forward only to have nausea hit him like a Marlboro falling onto him from on top of a cliff.

“M’sorry.” He choked.

The younger man was forced to give up verbalization so he could run-as well as he was able-to the bathroom and vomit spectacularly into the toilet for what felt like several minutes. Feasibly it was maybe thirty seconds but his alcohol tolerance was evidently pathetic. By the time he was done, his dry heaving had turned into a sort of twisted sobbing and he was forced to rethink the idealism that Genesis’ death hadn’t really affected him. Because he was-apparently-traumatized enough to drink himself to ruins, make out with his father’s partner and then throw up in said father’s partner’s restroom. He didn’t think he’d ever had an evening so incredibly bizarre before, and when he had somewhat gathered himself and cleaned up any residual damage, he was too terrified to leave the bathroom. Instead he sat next to the sink and stared at the door like it was a monstrosity borne from the dregs of the time-space continuum hell-bent on making his day as grievous, miserable, and humiliating as possible.

The heavy, somewhat shuffling gait that was nearing the bathroom made him even more wary of staring at the door frame where Angeal was filling now. Sephiroth looked away, but it wasn’t before he saw the older man’s guilt-wracked face.

“You...don’t have to apologize.” The dark-haired First shuffled from one foot to another, seemed to be at war with himself in some ways that was reminiscent of how Genesis sometimes was when he was really upset, before finding his voice again. “I-I shouldn’t have done that… I’m sorry… I truly am… I-...!” There was a quiet gasp which made the former General look up to see Angeal leaning heavily on the frame, a strange look on his face that bordered on so much surprise and yet so much shame. “I-I  _ abused  _ you,” The former Commander choked, hands rising up to cover a usually stern and solemn face. “So selfish and so blind in my grief…” And for a moment Sephiroth feared that if he didn’t stop his former comrade, he might commit  _ seppuku  _ like some of the Wutain prisoners they had to take in the war. But when the green-eyed ex-soldier moved, his father’s partner quickly snapped. “ _ Don’t. _ ” And his fading blue eyes were pleading as he hissed. “ _ Don’t make this more about me than you already have. _ You’ve lost your lover...and Vincent is  _ your  _ father. I don’t-...I don’t have the right, you shouldn’t comfort me so much as I should be the one comforting  _ you _ .”

Sephiroth went anyway, though he wasn’t all that graceful about it.

Realistically he made it halfway across the bathroom floor before he was forced to give up standing and had to sit to stop the walls from spinning. Clutching his head, the silver-haired man wondered how he ended up in situations like this before remembering that he’d idiotically walked into this one. It took him a while to formulate words and by that time Angeal was looking fairly hysterical and he was  _ feeling  _ pretty hysterical. 

“Y-” He stopped and thought extremely hard. “You didn’t abuse me.” He forced out. “Be serious, N’geal. We’re both…” The green-eyed man struggled with himself. “Too much of the vodka.” He continued stupidly. “Gen’sis was your  _ friend... _ your childhood friend. And you-you knew Vincent longer than me.” The former General swallowed. “Just because someone’s related to you doesn’t make them more valu’ble to someone-someone-” He waved a hand. “-Else. Someone else. At the very least, both of us lost an equal amount, but don’t do this to yourself. S’not worth it, neither of them would want this for either of us. Gen…” A sharp pang blossomed in his chest and Sephiroth had to pause to blink fiercely for a minute. “Gen would be rolling on the floor laughing right now, you know it, I know it. Vincent would forgive us in a…” Silver brows drew together. “This thing,” He muttered, pointing at his chest. “The sound it makes…” He gave up. “That fast.” 

Angeal still looked hysterical, but not in that panicked sort of way from before, more on-the-verge-of-tears of sorts before a head of onyx whipped to look away, probably realized it was a mistake as a big hand rose to cradle the older man’s forehead. There was a quiet yet gravid sigh, the hand dropped and clenched and unclenched into a fist as the dark-haired man spoke, sapphire eyes slowly meeting his. “I-...I don’t agree with you, but…” He trailed off, moved toward Sephiroth, offering him a hand while with the other braced himself on the sink. “C’mon. We’re both drunk... I-... I think it’s best we go to bed now, talk ‘bout it later.”

The younger man looked at the hand in front of him like Angeal was offering him a bowl of fried chicken after they had eaten a whole turkey. Blinked a couple of times at it with what he guessed must have been a dumbfounded expression as his former comrade was giving him a faint reassuring and commiserating smile. Tentatively wrapping his fingers around it, Sephiroth pulled, and while the dark-haired First was somewhat quick to counter his idiotic move, his father’s lover yelped,  _ ‘whoa’ _ ed, nearly crashed on top of the former General before pulling the younger man up and onto his feet.

“M'not wrong.” Sephiroth replied crankily, relinquishing his hand. “You’re just stubborn.” When the younger man gave him a look that told him that he was unimpressed by his mouthiness he scowled and straightened. “I am-” He paused and narrowed his eyes muzzily. “- _ Wa _ s your superior. And you still don't outrank me, General. I'm a free agent. Don't tell me whether I'm right or wrong I'll write you up for insu-iubinor-insubordination.” Angeal was clearly struggling to figure out if he was serious or being belligerent. Flicking his hair over his shoulder the green-eyed man swayed somewhat. “You should drop down and give me fifty.” He scowled. “And you can't tell me to go to bed. I won't go to bed.” The world tilted dangerously and his former fellow First was forced to revert from incredulous observance to catching him before he fell over. As he was half-carried and half-dragged to the couch, Sephiroth found there was little left he could do other than complain. “Why don't Banorans ever listen?” He groused. “Is it something in the water?”

As a blanket was unceremoniously tossed over him he glared at the ceiling. “If he comes back this time I'm killing him.” He declared to no one in particular. “Geal, I hate you, but it's the nicest kind of hate possible because I hate you for being so nice.” The silver-haired ex-soldier paused. “I actually like you and I really like Vincent but if you tell him I'll kill you too.” 

There was a clink of glass on the coffee table to his left, a mumbled ‘drink up now’ but the blanket was warm and comfortable and the way he was being bogged down by the plush cushions of the coach simply made it difficult to move and not to succumb to the heaviness of his eyelids. More heavy shuffling footfalls, and suddenly his hair was being ruffled by a big warm hand. Cracking open his eyes to glare at the dark-haired individual above his head, he found Angeal smiling a little at him; and it wasn’t a sad smile, but Sephiroth couldn’t really focus on how he knew this information. 

“Goodnight to you too, Sephiroth.” 

And for a brief moment, he was thrown back a good several years ago. The first and last time he had slept over at Angeal’s, in very much the same state of being inebriated while he watched from underneath platinum lashes as the dark-haired First’s back recede into the shadows of the hallway. That time another man was accompanying the now General of the Shinra army, a thatch of vibrant red which was missing at the moment. And Angeal, his hair wasn’t streaked with gray, and he wasn’t slouching like he was weighed down by some invisible bundle of duracrete. As quickly as the moment came, it was gone and his mind was growing heavier and heavier...drizzling down between the cracks of his synapses until he was barely brushing the surface of his conscious mind. He was distantly aware of someone smoothing the coverlets before moving away, but he couldn’t catch the concept of it long enough to make any sense of it. And when sleep came for him he surrendered willingly, surrendered to emptiness instead of bottomless grief and self-loathing. If today had been hard, tomorrow was bound to be far harder; tomorrow he would have to face the reality of a bereft world stone-sober with a splitting headache.

Tomorrow Sephiroth would face yet another day alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genesis' transformation is different from what happens in Crisis Core because my Genesis' muse couldn't imagine Genesis' ego abiding by such a colossal, weird-looking beast.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Working under the sun, even though it was nearing winter, was still tiring work. Dressed in a simple black samue-even though Jitsuke had insisted it was cold outside-Genesis straightened, wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his palm, while his other hand leaned on the end of the wooden handle of his hoe. 

It had been three months since he’d woken up in Mideel. 

The same old couple from around two years ago, when Sephiroth and he had come here for a vacation had taken him in, had cared for him both physically and mentally until he had been able to leave the ikkodate.

Thinking about the silver-haired man still made his heart ache, still made his eyes burn with unshed salinity before he had to blink them away, take a deep breath and go about his new life. And maybe it wasn’t much of a life compared to how he had lived before. He had changed lives like he was changing clothes only to find that none of them worked. The short period they had been on Funaraoi-before Vincent had come to them with that ill news-had been as close to living as the redhead could call it after everything had gone to hell. For once, it had been in a way that had made him feel he’d belonged; before that, it had been the ephemeral time they had spent together back in SOLDIER before their world together had turned to shit. 

The Tanakas had told him that one of the townspeople had found him washed up on the shore of the place where Lifestream sometimes surged up from deep within the bowels of Gaia. He had no recollections of it, except a vague sense that he’d met his Goddess, had seen nightmares of the encounter countless times only to wake up every time she rejected him, barely keeping himself from screaming. 

Crying his eyes dry had been what had followed his earliest cognizant moments, and it didn’t matter what he was doing, if he was being fed something by Jitsuke, or being helped into a bath by Hidemaro; if he was sitting down and gazing out the window at how it poured outside or lying down on the futon to try and sleep. And it had been ugly… ugly enough that by the time his tears had run dry, the old couple knew what was wrong with him...knew who exactly that green-eyed individual had been who had accompanied him last time, but wasn’t here with him…wasn’t alive anymore.

Wishing for death and ordering his physicality to fade away…willing his psyche and mentality to fly away into some afterlife which he didn’t believe in hadn’t gotten him anywhere. Mako withdrawal hadn’t made things easier on him at all either. The realization that he had to  _ survive _ -and not live, not really, just survive, because if he’d been to die, he would have had in the aftermath of his fight with Omega-was the ugliest thing in the world. And it had been really strange, to wake up and see that life was still flowing and going on around him when only moments ago, it’d seemed that no matter what they’d try, Gaia would end up being a lifeless rock in the cosmos. In reality, it’d been several weeks that he’d been dead to the world, but that was neither here nor there. 

They had succeeded, but at what cost… at what a grave cost…

Sighing and tightening the knot on his top, Genesis held onto the handle with both of his hands, raising the hoe before bringing it down. Honestly, if his past self was around to see him slaving in the Tanakas’ paddy field, he would be rolling on the ground laughing, and it brought a small smile to his lips too. But it had been something he’d wanted to do himself. He’d asked them to let him work on their field to repay the time and effort they had put into nursing him back to health; either due to the consequences of his consumption of copious amounts of mako, or the results the subsequent loss of magic had caused. That, and for the food and the place they had been giving him. It wasn’t much by his old standards, but he was surprisingly  _ content _ . 

Or that’s what he told himself, because the alternative was a much more bleaker, painful existence.

The hours he labored was beneficial for him in many ways; kept him fit, tired him so he could find a small measure of sleep at night. It was also a good thing to focus on, distract his mind to keep his constant gloomy thoughts away. He still practiced with the sword, sometimes even imagined that the gardening tool in his hand was a blade, and the earth was an opponent he had to overcome. He’d voiced his thoughts to Hidemaro only to have the elder laugh at him in a world-wise way.

Sometimes, the older man came to the paddy field with him, with a straw basket to collect the rocks while Genesis plowed the earth. 

“Hoe the soil.” He’d say. “Look at the texture, feel it.” Would walk toward him and pour a handful of dirt in his hands, rub it against his palm and fingers, and Genesis would watch with unveiled surprise, because this was his childhood all over again. But there was no bitterness, nothing but kindness… Wrinkled, heavily calloused hands, caring hands… Hidemaro would bend down and much to the redhead’s stupefied expression eat-or rather taste-the soil, offer him some which the former Commander always politely declined. “It has to feel soft and full under your feet. Warm. Fine to the eyes and without rocks.” He’d say, make the scarlet-haired ex-soldier take off his zōri and feel the earth against the soles of his feet, walk in the dirt until it was between his toes. And surprisingly, the blue-eyed individual didn’t mind.

Here, surrounded by nature, he felt at ease. When the wind made a wavy sea of the stalks of grass and blew through the branches of trees, Genesis would think of Sephiroth, close his eyes and imagine how the silvery strands would sway and dance. And it wasn’t torture anymore… Even when it rained when he was out working, he’d stay under the pouring heavens, would sometimes lie on the muddy ground he had plowed and get dirt everywhere just to feel the rain hitting his face, to see the droplets falling from the sky like they both had, to blink repeatedly because he got water in his eyes… And if he returned to to the ikkodate with red-rimmed eyes, thoroughly soaked and shivering, the older couple didn’t say anything; would help him get rid of his sodden clothes, bring him warm ones and usher him to the kotatsu where a steaming soup was waiting for him.

Other townspeople sometimes gave him looks, never said anything of course-which worked for him just fine-because he wasn’t really looking for trouble, he wasn’t up for picking up fights… Maybe if they did approach him outright, he wouldn’t mind making them wish they were never born but since he wasn’t too keen on returning to Midgar or going back to Funaraoi, he was alright with it. Some of them were kinder, some even approached him and offered help, but the redhead always stubbornly and politely refused and thanked them perfunctorily. Jitsuke sometimes came along with other women, brought him food when he missed going back for lunch, even sat down to talk with him, tried to get him interested in some of the youngsters, which was amusing and endearing somewhat, though a futile effort nonetheless. 

Sephiroth and his love were intertwined within him in ways he could never imagine himself without it. So what if the younger man was not alive anymore? In his heart, in his soul, he was always there, alive, always young and beautiful in the ways only the silver-haired man could manage; achingly sweet and unique. That was the reason he smiled on good days, at no one and nothing in particular, when he was sure no one was watching, in the same manner that was only reserved for his lover… Felt the expression crinkle the corners of his eyes, sometimes would touch the tiny wrinkles with the tip of his fingers, even the freckles dotting his cheekbones, and wonder what the former General would say if he saw him like he was now.

Some time along the way, he’d found that he didn’t begrudge his lover for all those things that had come between them anymore… It was heart-wrenching for it to have been death that brought him to such a realization-to not resenting the time they had lost, not resenting him for choosing to leave, for choosing to stay earlier, for all the things Sephiroth had done… The acknowledgment had left him breathless and aching, longing for the silver-haired man’s presence, for  _ anything _ with ties to his deceased lover… But now he couldn’t, but now he had to live, and it was alright… 

Only that it wasn’t.

Winter came and went in the blink of an eye. 

They flooded the paddies with water. And like Hidemaro and some other elders had said, the earth held the aqua, didn’t dry out overnight and while Genesis didn’t understand what was so surprising about it, he didn’t say anything. 

On some sleepless nights, he’d walk near the fields and check them, would go to the hills where the waterfalls were still roaring. Hugging his hanten tighter against the chilly winds as he gazed at the distant celestial bodies, Genesis thought about how Sephiroth might be up there somewhere like his old children stories said, among the stars. 

He would return hours before dawn to sleep until late in the afternoon, to wake up to the feel of warm golden sunlight spilling over his face.

In the middle of the winter, they collected the fertile soil in rectangular wooden boxes, sowed the rice seeds in ‘regular interval’-as Hidemaro had insisted-watered them whenever necessary, put them in the sun in the mornings, and brought them back inside at night and covered them by a straw mat to protect them from the chill. The buds sprouted and the tiny rice plants started to grow; so green and youthful, and it was hard not to think of the color with his lover’s eyes, couldn’t stop himself from touching the delicate weak stalks in a tentative, curious sort of way. 

Spring came, and Genesis couldn’t help but miss the eternal blue and purple flowers of the Jacaranda mimosifolia they had made love under in Funaraoi. He could go away, where prying eyes weren’t watching, could will his wing out into existence and fly there, could go anywhere really, but why do that when Sephiroth wasn’t there at their home…wasn’t there waiting for him, would never be there, anywhere. He could always go to headquarters, to care for broken Angeal… but maybe by now they had found a cure for Vincent and his friend wasn’t so broken anymore. And he really didn’t want to do anything with the world, knew that once they found a one-winged monster on their radars, he’d know no rest and reprieve, because of course they’d probably need all the help they could get to rebuild and fix the damage Omega had brought upon them. 

The former Commander wanted no part in it. 

He was finally reaching a semblance of peace. This was something he could devote himself to now, some sort of domesticated quiet that would make his past self, and possibly his lover laugh, but it didn’t make it any less true. He could probably go away after a couple of years, maybe after his current caretakers weren’t there anymore, and wander the world until he turned to dust. As strange as it was, it felt like he was a son to the Tanakas, and it was weird to catch himself acting like Angeal did toward Gillian once in a while; how he’d find himself holding Jitsuke’s dainty hand between his own and compare them with aunt Gillian’s. He’d follow the grey strands with his eyes and catch himself wanting to thread his fingers through them while thinking about how Gillian’s were darker but Jitsuke was also a lot older than Angeal’s mother. He had helped his surprisingly new mother-figure comb her hair a couple of times, before reigning himself in… because he couldn’t, shouldn’t get attached like that again, but couldn’t help it sometimes. And Genesis wasn’t sure if it was how being part of a family felt, how having a mother and father felt, but he was done questioning the affections he was receiving, and instead accepted them...because for once there had been no ulterior motive behind it, and sure there had always been Gillian, Angeal, and Sephiroth… There was a good chance that Angeal was still there… But he was done loathing himself for the past, he was done dwelling on it. For good this time. The farming helped, nature helped, it felt everything was finally on his side this time, after taking so much away, after leaving him bereft, now it was time for his rehabilitation. 

Maybe that wasn’t the right word for it, but who was he to be picky about it.

They planted the rice when the ‘lots of frogs and lots of snakes to eat them appeared’ happened. The former Commander had laughed,  _ genuinely  _ laughed when he heard the phrase, after what seemed a really long time. Even though a part of him wanted to ask them why they didn’t come up with a definitive date, he didn’t say anything. Went in the paddy with water up to his shins and his jinbei pants rolled up to his thighs. He’d received a good scolding from Jitsuke for wearing the outfit out of the house, but he wasn’t going out there wearing a yukata and hakama, especially when it involved trudging in the water and working with mud.

Hidemaro had actually praised him for doing it right, though only after pestering him affectionately a couple of times; telling him that he was good with his hands. Genesis hadn’t acknowledged it outright, just smiled through the sweat, smeared dirt over his brow and continued working. 

Watching the plantations grow required patience. And just as all the elders had told him, it wasn’t over at all once they’d sown them; it’d only been the beginning. They had to walk among the seedlings, to pluck out the weed so the sun would hit the rice, and to observe if any of them were damaged by insects or if they had caught diseases. It was also to check the water, they said, to see if it was too hot or too cold, so if that was the case, they could change it. 

The redhead couldn’t stop himself from nagging about why they were taking so long to grow up, only to be rewarded with kind smiles that brightened up dark brown irises and deepened the lines on the Tanakas’ faces. The harmony between the elderly couple hadn’t changed from how the former Commander remembered them. Sometimes, it made him reminisce about how Sephiroth and he had always worked well together; made him wonder if it’d remain the same were they to grow old like Jitsuke and Hidemaro, if they ever would. Not that it mattered now anyway.

Gritting his teeth and offering a pained smile as he excused himself from their presence, Genesis would go running to the falls. On the foot of the hills he’d have wondered how he’d end up breaking his neck and several other limbs if he were to jump down the cliffs, but by the time he’d reached the top, he’d feel much calmer after enough wind and wooden limbs had whipped his face; when tiny droplets of water would coalesce in a thin sheen of moisture over his face and get tangled in his hair.

He’d let it grow. Sometimes, he ran his fingers in the auburn strands, and though it felt good, it filled him with a bittersweet longing. Jitsuke offered sometimes to brush and comb it for him, but the redhead refused; and he didn’t need to offer his reasons, because she understood. Sometimes, Genesis would talk to her about him-and it wasn’t really anything detailed-would put his head on her lap and soak the fabric of her jinbei while she’d gently pet his hair and pat his back.

“Fall seven times, stand up eight.” She would say, and other times, she’d tell him in a mock-stern but motherly voice to “Wake from death and turn to life.” She’d tell him many things, but usually he’d have drunk himself to a magnitude of inebriated stupor that by morning he didn’t know his own name due to the headache that was splitting his skull.

By the time the rice plant flowers had ears of rice and were ready to be reaped, the ‘month of dragonflies’ had started, also signifying the harvesting season. It was beautiful and also joyous amongst the townspeople. Participating in the ceremony they held, being among the bickering and running children, mothers, fathers, elderly, and adolescents whom some of them Genesis caught eyeing him every once in a while-though felt no desire to pursue at all-he felt happy…well, as happy as he could. Sipping his rice wine, he kept catching himself gazing over the rim of his ochoko looking for a brief flash of silver as he drowned his wish of the younger man being there with him in the sake. 

Now, it seemed that they had finally accepted him as part of their town, that-as they had commented apologetically and somewhat jovially-‘he wasn’t some pompous swordslinger’. While the past versions of the former Commander would have bristled and fumed at the mouth over such an accusation, he’d smiled genially and offered them his thanks, stole a tokkuri of sake and strode to wherever his feet might lead him.

It was during such a happy and somewhat magical-though for most people, less for him-time that a group of men rushed to one of the ikkodates to see ‘the first Shinra announcement after the calamity had fallen’. Following them on a whim of curiosity might have been his wrongest decision, or maybe the rightest after what amounted to a whole year of  _ separation _ .

Because Sephiroth was  _ not  _ dead.

It had taken every ounce of his willpower to stand where he had been, as he had been; not to rush forward and trace the lines of the younger man’s visage over the thick glass of the old gray and white TV, and not to drop the bottle of sake and just watch. 

His heart was beating so hard and so quickly in his chest it felt like he’d run a good fifty miles.

The urge to run back to their mental link niggled in the back of his brain, but with surprising ease Genesis brushed it aside. While he couldn’t help but feel the love he had for Sephiroth swell inside him it to the point it nearly left him breathless, he was content to just lean against the wooden frame of the shōji and observe from afar. 

The former-now _ interim _ -General looked better, happy even. A part of him wondered that maybe his lover might now be someone else’s, but Genesis didn’t feel jealous or angry. It made him feel a little teary-eyed and sentimental, but he was just- _ just _ so incredibly happy to see the silver-haired man alive and  _ well _ . Surprisingly, he didn’t even think about why the younger man hadn’t looked for him at all...didn’t find the least bit inclination within him to bristle with rage at how easily Sephiroth had continued living there without trying to find him. With a hint of amusement, he acknowledged that maybe...just maybe both of them had thought the other was gone, and then done more or less the same...tried to survive and hold the memory of the other alive inside their hearts. There was also Angeal, his dark hair now more grey and white, and beside him was none other than Vincent Valentine himself, looking healthy; his golden-taloned hand wasn’t there anymore, which was strange but the former Commander was feeling a little bit too jocund to focus on that at the moment. Really, the entirety of what they were saying escaped him, the noises all fading in the background as his eyes absorbed whatever he could glean when the camera moved to any of the trio.

They all seemed happy. 

And that was what he desired.

A hand on his shoulder though, gave him pause and Genesis didn’t need to tilt his head to know who it was. 

“You helped plow the fields, sow and reap the rice.” were calm and kind words and the fingers on his shoulder tightened before Hidemaro spoke again. 

“Home is where the heart is. Go to him, son.”

* * *

They asked him to be interim General two weeks after Omega fell.

Standing in a conference room filled to the brim, Sephiroth had shriveled a little bit inside when the idea was brought to the forefront. Eye after eager eye scanned him up and down...hungrily, like he was something to be won and not someone to be understood. The crawling sensation it left on his skin left him feeling faintly nauseous. Because he did not  _ want  _ this. He’d spent the majority of the last few weeks adjusting to life in HQ, to life under an Administration that was markedly different but in some ways the same. He didn’t like it, but he couldn’t bear the idea of returning to Funaraoi, couldn’t conscience the thought of walking through so many memories by himself until he dropped to the dust. 

Here, at least he had something to do. Lazard started sneakily handing him paperwork around the end of week one, and by the time week two had begun he had his own office; though not the same one as he’d had before. The content of the paperwork was different. Instead of mission reports he read over liaison reports regarding SOLDIER’s attempts to work with AVALANCHE. Both sides were stubborn but Fuhito’s betrayal was crippling. Many members had deserted due to the mad scientist’s heinous act alone, and it didn’t look like they were coming back. Other than that, he made a point of passing financial reports to his understudy, a cadet who seemed to have far too much time and too much energy on his hands. 

They didn’t stop calling him ‘sir.’ 

Saving the Planet was evidently pretty much a ‘get out of jail free’ card...literally. The men treated him with deference and respect, and he often saw newer recruits in his office looking for advice. Each time, he could provide very little. Expounding on the importance of honor seemed hypocritical, and duty was something resigned to him...something obligated. Sephiroth instead offered words of caution about focusing too much on the definition of glory. Surprisingly, most of them seemed to listen, but he didn’t let it go to his head. 

When he was offered the position of General, he’d nearly dragged Angeal outside of the conference room to seek his opinion. Gently, the dark-haired man had told him that he didn’t really mind, that he’d been somewhat expecting this, though he hadn’t been anticipating his successor. Upon deliberation, they agreed that the silver-haired man would still defer to his former comrade for issues he was unsure of. Upon reentry, Sephiroth had made it clear that Angeal was his consultant, to the great displeasure of many, but he also made it clear that he wouldn’t take the position any other way...and the Brass reluctantly agreed. 

It wasn’t as bad as he thought. 

SOLDIER was-for the most part-inactive, so concerns about missions were put to the wayside in favor of structural repair. He sent squadrons out to the slums to talk to civilians about their concerns in regards to housing and eventually got five or six projects running in several lower sectors. The most severe issue was that of the power grid. It was-effectively-inactive, and the populace was getting restless. After consulting with several city officials, he moved for solar and wind power. Electric might have been easier, but it wasn’t environmentally friendly. Despite the fact that SOLDIER didn’t technically have to answer AVALANCHE's demands for a cleaner method of energy, it was still better if they met in the middle. It was estimated that much of the work would take at least a year, and until then their options ranged from coal to gas to wood fires but none of it was sustainable in the long-term. Sephiroth spent yet another few days consulting with energy experts, several extremely old professors and an engineer before he settled on kerosene. The cost was low and its usefulness was fairly wide. Once the intricacies of distribution were managed, he fielded the majority of it over to Reeve and then set his sights on the food supply.

This took considerably longer, because you couldn’t run supermarkets on kerosene and the longer the city went without food the worse things would get. The newly-instated General spent several nights sitting awake in his apartment trying to figure out a way to ship produce from a considerable distance before Tseng came to him with a proposition. The girl that HQ had ordered them to protect-Aerith-had figured out a way to grow flowers in the slums. This alone was a miraculous feat because the lack of sunlight had made most of the sectors entirely dead to any type of agricultural endeavor. Gainsborough wanted Shinra to biologically engineer the soil she used and distribute seed packets. These could be placed atop buildings and civilians would be assigned to care for and take from plots. Sephiroth was not a fan of looking too deeply into green and leafy things so he consulted Angeal who-of course-was ecstatic about it and resigned himself to fielding gardening strategies for the next several months. This didn’t-of course-account for produce, and you couldn’t raise large livestock within the limits of such a large city. 

Chickens were fine, because you could distribute chickens and they wouldn’t stampede down thoroughfares but animals of bovine appearance were an entirely different story. Sephiroth spent another two weeks numbly wondering why he spent most of his current existence thinking about ways to accommodate farm animals. Angeal seemed to find this terribly funny, in a very nice way of course, but the cheeky looks he sent his way didn’t help his mood. Ration packs were a decent source of protein and their creation wasn’t a costly thing, so he satisfied himself with sending out emergency relief packages filled with water bottles, rations, first-aid boxes, batteries and flashlights and signaling torches. The signaling torches had to stop-so he was informed by a rather angry Reeve-because teenagers kept sending them up like fireworks and getting arrested by the frantic squadrons that rushed to their aid. This had made Sephiroth laugh- _ genuinely  _ laugh-for the first time in months and it was a  _ good  _ feeling.

It wasn’t so awful.

It wasn’t exactly the lazy, peaceful future he’d envisioned so many times, but there wasn’t gunfire or pools of blood or maddened scientists and he learned to like it. He and Angeal spent considerable amounts of time together, though thankfully no other drunken mishaps occured. When they managed to find free time they spent it walking the city or sitting out on one of the hundreds of upper level balconies provided for them in HQ chatting about nothing in particular. There was always the shadow of grief, the truth of those that were missing, but they were managing. And he developed a new respect that he hadn’t had for his former comrade before; for his determination, his positivism that was never forced and his quiet, steady presence. If he chose to spend the night on Angeal’s couch because he couldn’t bear sleeping in an empty apartment, it was understood. Really, it was understood that he pretty much moved in and became an uninvited houseguest that ate all of his food, used his facilities and listened to his radio. It was hard to watch the blue-eyed First degrade...hard to see how tired he became. And if Sephiroth started spending more and more time awkwardly orbiting around his personal space because he was frightened but trying to pass it off as friendliness, it was taken with a patient sort of exasperation. 

Vincent was responding to the Jenova cells, however slowly, and each time they upped the dosage it was promising. His father didn’t mutate, and his brain cells were slowly gaining some form of responsive activity. As the signs of his return to vitality became more and more positive, Angeal started spending more and more time in the Science Division, and by proxy, Sephiroth was constantly bouncing back and forth to check on them. They removed the former Turk from the mako tank at about six months because he was breathing on his own and at that point both the former General and the interim General insisted he be moved somewhere more comfortable. It was a little bit strange to have an unconscious person sleeping in the dark-haired First’s bedroom, but it was also a welcome thing. Sephiroth hadn’t known that simply being near his sire could be comforting...but it was. He talked to him often, confided in him often because-as far as he was aware-Vincent couldn’t hear him. Sephiroth talked about his life in the labs, his time in SOLDIER and the awkwardness of being shoved into a world that really didn’t understand him. And-of course-he talked about Genesis. When Angeal was gone he sometimes  _ railed  _ about Genesis because it was therapeutic and nobody could hear him. 

It was during such a rant that Vincent opened his eyes. 

The silver-haired General had taken a deep breath to continue on some tirade or another when onyx lashes lifted to reveal crimson irises that promptly shot him a grumpy look. Shocked, embarrassed, and more than a little traumatized, Sephiroth went to get Angeal who promptly sprinted six flights down and fell to pieces next to the bed. It was slow going from there. For several weeks, his father could really only look at them...sometimes with a temperate weariness, sometimes with affection...and-of course-he looked at Angeal with love. They filled him in as best they could, because it was obvious he was cognizant. Scientists came and went to check on the eldest of their strange trio and it was a breathless, tentative stretch of existence. And even though Sephiroth wasn’t romantically involved with anyone at the moment, let alone the men in the apartment, he still looked forward to coming ‘home’ at the end of the day. It struck him quite starkly one day that Angeal had somehow taken up a familial position in his life as well. When he realized this he’d practically run out of HQ and proceeded to get so drunk in a nameless hole-in-the wall Angeal had to call a squadron to drag him back. For some reason, it didn’t seem to make the men hate him. If anything, it seemed to make them understand that he was just as prone to emotional ridiculousness as they were and they proceeded to be much more open with him. 

Halfway through month seven, Vincent started talking. 

Sephiroth wasn’t there for it because Lazard dragged him to a ribbon-cutting ceremony honoring the opening of a new hospital in the slums. When Angeal paged him he’d taken a motorbike straight back up to HQ only to find the two men talking in soft voices. His father’s tonalization was weak and husky and his fellow First’s tone was affectionate and thick with emotion. He’d dithered at the door, unsure if he was welcome until Genesis’ childhood friend had caught sight of him and given him a thoroughly exasperated look only to drag him over to the bed. Vincent had taken one good look at him before he raised an eyebrow and smirked. 

“You look...better” he’d rasped. 

Maybe he was. 

Sitting out on a balcony the same night, the green-eyed man wondered if he was finally at peace with what he had. It wasn’t exactly what he’d  _ wanted  _ what he’d dreamed of. In a perfect world, Genesis would be there...he would be laughing along with his father’s frankly horrific jokes and Angeal’s terrible attempts at communal cooking. But this wasn’t a perfect world...and the redhead was dead. They’d made a placard for him, stuck it up next to the placards of thousands of others who had died. The first time Sephiroth had seen it, maybe a month after Omega fell, he’d wanted to smash it out of the wall because it was insulting. Because how dare Shinra act like they had the right to claim his lover as their hero? How dare they assume to possess something they had so thoroughly destroyed? As the weeks went by, he was less resentful of it...learned to stop and looked at the granite curve of the “G-E-N-E-S-I-S” and feel a kind of sweet ache in his chest that became duller with time. Strangely, he didn’t particularly feel the urge to seek out anyone else...didn’t feel like there was a void to fill. He knew this wasn’t typical of those who experienced loss; especially someone his age who wasn’t really old enough to be considered ‘bereaved’. Realistically, he didn’t think he’d be banking on romance ever again, and he was alright with that. When he told Angeal so, the dark-haired man gave him a hairy look but didn’t deign to breach the subject. Vincent smirked and was equally silent and he’d gone to bash the training room to pieces. 

All of this-of course-didn’t change who he was at his core.

When he and Genesis had first reunited-when Sephiroth had found out that the older man was alive-he’d been so busy trying to prove himself to him that he’d dismissed the darkness in him that had-up until that point-been eating him alive. He’d told himself that because Lucrecia gave him his humanity back that he could ‘get better.’ With Genesis gone, the fact that that wasn’t true was a glaring verity in the back of his mind. Because Sephiroth had killed in cold blood long before he was regenerated in a crystal shell. And without the work he’d put into their relationship, there was nothing to sway that focus  _ save  _ for focus. He  _ had  _ to work because if he didn’t work he was going to do terrible, irreversible things to those around him. It was difficult to acknowledge himself as a slave to his own proclivities. Just as difficult as it was to acknowledge that his lover was dead. But when he was lying in bed at night listening to nothing but the darkness in his soul...there was no ignoring it or avoiding it. 

He learned to live with himself because the only other alternative was mindless surrender.

Nine months in, and Sephiroth discovered he could use Jenova cells to regenerate dermis. The initial shock of it came when he cut himself on a kitchen knife and sat there for five minutes willing himself to heal so he didn’t have to wrap his fingers in gauze. To his surprise, his physicality did just that, and he’d sat there dumbfounded for at least an hour before he flew to the Science Division and demanded to know what was wrong with him. It was explained to him that his ability to control the Corrupt Lifestream was due to the fact that he had facets of it in his blood. It only made sense that he was able to command it with his will. Sephiroth didn’t know how to feel about that, because it meant that he could possibly control his two comrades via suggestion. Jenova’s voice had only been a backdrop to him, she didn’t have enough power to really imprint any type of enslaved focus because she’d been locked away in a tin can so long...but Sephiroth had  _ not  _ been locked up in a tin can and now he was a walking psychic entity. 

He regenerated Vincent’s arm just before the year came back ‘round. The older man had undergone weeks of physical therapy and other medical exercises. Most of the time, he asked them to leave, because it was humiliating to watch...but it was progress. It took him several weeks to get on his feet and a few more to manage walking. Thankfully the mako didn’t seem to have affected him in any way, and the green-eyed man was quietly glad for it. When it was announced that the crimson-eyed gunslinger could return to his duties Sephiroth hadn’t really thought about it; had just  _ acted  _ and grabbed what was left of his father’s arm so he could channel that focus into something new. Angeal had dropped his coffee cup on the floor as bone, blood, and dermis became apparent where previously there had been none; as the golden claw encasing his sire’s physicality gave way to something of flesh...something...humanistic. 

Vincent had stared at it for a long while, as if he didn’t really know what to do with it. He lifted it tentatively, checked the heft of it as his lover spluttered. Then he’d looked at Sephiroth, and it was a long, soul-searching look that made him wonder if he’d done something he shouldn’t have. Then, the ebon-haired ex-Turk closed what remained of the space between them and pulled him into a hug that would have cracked someone else’s ribs. Angeal joined him and he promptly wanted to die but endured it because he was a little bit shocked with himself. The former General insisted on some type of party, and by the time his head hit the couch, Sephiroth could only hope that such happiness lasted. 

It didn’t. 

Because while Vincent was alive and well...the crimson-eyed man’s lover was getting weaker and weaker. Sephiroth had seen the shock in scarlet orbs when the older man caught sight of his partner for the first time, had felt a pang of pity in his chest but pushed it aside. Sentimentality could be a ruinous thing. Sitting on Angeal’s couch fiddling with the radio, he watched as the aforementioned man made a slow and careful path to the kitchen while telling himself that he wasn’t going to offer to be helpful. He had swiftly learned that while the owner of the Buster Sword was patient, he was still somewhat prideful. Getting up and following the blue-eyed First to the kitchen, he was rewarded with a dour glance as he leaned on the entryway. 

“HQ wants to do a press conference.” He said flatly. “About the power alternatives.” 

Upon Angeal’s agreement, and then his, Shinra proceeded to make true on their promise to explain the situation to the populace, and the program was the first one to be on-air world-wide after Omega had struck. Anyone who had a hand in bringing about the changes within and without the headquarters was there, and although Vincent hadn’t been around, the dark-haired former General had asked Reeve to let him accompany them. Walking behind his father and his partner while said partner seemed to be holding onto the older man’s elbow as one would lean on a cane was hard to watch, more so was to see his former comrade passing his opportunities to talk in favor of him or other members of the board, or when he’d really wanted to add something it was either to ask the crimson-eyed ex-Turk to do it on his behalf or not say anything at all. His lips would press into a pale tight line, dark brows furrowed, and he’d reach for Sephiroth’s sire’s hand under the table where no one could see the gesture.

It was an overall success, despite the otherwise valid protests they had received, but it seemed to have helped with explaining the situation to the cities that weren’t on the Eastern Continent or near enough to have known of what had been happening.

Wutai had sent their help sometime along the year that had passed in terms of ration and basic aids, and when the press conference had been broadcasted, they had sent a message of congratulations on seeing the company and the metropolis up and running.

They were still a ways from being up and running per se, but they were getting there. Sector by sector they were getting the power grid back on, and it was done so because the people of the upper and lower plate wouldn’t feel there was any difference between those who lived on top of the plate and those he lived below. Angeal had offered Miss Gainsborough the position to spearhead the renovation program for the slums, but the brunette had taken lots of convincing from both Shinra and AVALANCHE to actually accept it, and while she was young, she was passionate about it. Sephiroth suspected it was because they had shoved Slums welfare and Childcare on top of it too, but couldn’t bring himself to care much, regardless.

By all accounts, everything was going smoothly.

That was until Angeal, who was spending more and more of his time inside the apartment except for training and board meetings every once in a while, found out that someone had found Genesis’ Rapier and had auctioned it. The amount of money the buyer had paid to get it hadn’t been what had sent the blue-eyed First into hysterics, but the fact that they had lost it to someone else. Both Sephiroth and Vincent had offered to find a way to buy it back, and though it would’ve been hard-considering that the company was on a tight budget at the moment and every gil saved was a gil earned-they were dissuaded from the attempt regardless. 

The next weird happenstance was when Sephiroth had returned home after a ridiculously long day at work to find a black kitten on the coffee table while Angeal was moving hastily toward the kitchen stating plainly that he had adopted the aforementioned pet for Vincent so the ex-Turk wouldn’t miss him too much when he was gone. Staring at the midnight-colored feline, the green-eyed man couldn’t help but feel a little bit intimidated. He was not a pet person, but this was not his apartment no matter how much time he’d spent in it. The kitten raised its head and gave him a pitiful ‘meow’ and he felt his eye twitch. No, animals were not his area of expertise, let alone baby animals. 

“What about me?” He’d blurted out, feeling somewhat wounded.

Angeal had given him a wide-eyed look before promptly dissolving in a fit of laughter.

The receiver of such a fuzzy gift had walked in on the blue-eyed First patiently explaining to Sephiroth that while people were obviously much more comforting than animals, he couldn’t be around his father twenty-four hours a day, particularly at night...and the kitten would be a welcome warmth. Vincent took one look at the animal and seemed torn between hating the reason behind the gift and liking the idea of having a companion. In the end, the fate of Angeal’s kind-hearted gesture was decided when it crawled into the crimson-eyed man’s lap and then proceeded to dig his claws into his leathers. Because apparently you had to have a bit of vitriol if you wanted to be the pet of someone who’d once had a demonic entity sharing his soul.

They named it Chaos. 

It was a fitting name, because despite the fact that it was fluffy and generally harmless-looking, it was capable of causing inordinate amounts of damage. An armchair in the living room was covered in scratch marks at the base by the end of the first week and Sephiroth had searched for his spare pair of gloves in vain before finding them chewed up and tossed behind the television. They couldn’t leave anything particularly fascinating to the feline mind on the floor and loose threads dangling from clothing were fair game apparently. That being said, Chaos also used the facilities provided for him appropriately, didn’t vomit, jump on the countertops, hack up hairballs or cry in the middle of the night. All things considered, he was very well behaved in terms of training. He was also very attached to Vincent, who tolerated him with a gentle, somewhat exasperated air that poorly masked a deep well of affection. Chaos tolerated Sephiroth and Sephiroth tolerated him because they were ‘siblings’ as his father put it and neither of them really had a choice in the matter. And if the black ball of noir curled up with him on the sofa every so often, when the truth of his own romantic loneliness became too apparent, neither of them spoke about it in the morning. 

With Vincent’s full recovery and the addition of a ‘kid’, he gave the couple space because it was the right thing to do and it felt like they needed it. Strangely, he and Tseng got along rather well on a professional level, and when the dark-haired Turk invited him to a game of cards with Reno and Veld...he didn’t refuse. There wasn’t really a possibility that he’d become friends with the members of the Division, but they were inclusive and didn’t talk too much and he was fine with that. Sephiroth also spent a considerable amount of time getting to know the men better, a fact that all of them seemed to take a sort of star-struck delight in. And again, the idealisms of friendship were impossible, but there was camaraderie on a level that there hadn’t been before, and it was satisfying because it got him what he wanted much faster.

He looked in the mirror one day and realized he was getting older. 

There weren’t lines on his face, but there was a definite hardness to his jawline that youth hadn’t permitted him before. His hair was longer, but he got it trimmed occasionally because once it started reaching past his ankles he would be inundated with headaches. And the Sephiroth of so long ago didn’t have any sort of relaxation in his features...was constantly tense and brooding. Here, not so much; though he supposed that thinking about things to a degree that was ridiculous would never change. His hands-the upper part of them-weren’t smooth anymore. Someone had once commented that a marked sign of aging was a slight reduction of tissue in the knuckles, a minimal increase in the apparentness of the veins. This could-of course-be somewhat retained by the use of skincare products, but he wasn’t the type of slather lotions all over himself and the idea of aging had never bothered him. Turning his gaze from the mirror, he accepted the change for what it was and moved on. 

Reeve commented one day that he  _ ‘ought to settle down’  _ but the idea wasn’t attractive to him. He had work, his men, and his closer comrades...someone more sentimental than him might have called them ‘family’ but he wasn’t delusional quite yet. The idea of going through the mechanisms of courtship was exhausting. There was also the fact that he was fairly sure he would only be happy with a man, and while issues of attraction were somewhat antiquated, he still didn’t feel like dealing with the press. The media attention was less oppressive than it used to be; he was-after all-a ‘reformed criminal’. When it became clear that he wasn’t going to lead armies into battle or anything of the military sort, the interest waned. He was occasionally approached by tabloids that wanted to detail his humanitarian efforts, but he let Vincent field them instead. Aside from press attention, he was also very comfortable in HQ. Sephiroth didn’t love going out, mostly because he was fairly content where he was. When he didn’t spend the evening with Angeal and Vincent, spend time with the men, or play an intense game of cards with people who had better poker faces than him, he was happy to sit down and read a book or the newspaper, cook something experimental and usually questionable, or train by himself in the gym. And despite the fact that his life was very different, it wasn’t a bad life...or a boring life. Maybe he was a little lonely here and there, and he definitely missed Genesis in the quiet moments, but coping was a learned trait. And when Angeal invited him down for one of their usual walks he didn’t expect anything to change...but it did. 

Effectively, his world was turned upside down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you probably have a lot of questions as to how any of this is possible in regards to Genesis. It's mostly up to interpretation because they've all been hinted at in the previous chapter and this one. But to give you an example, you can think of the mako drinks that were served in the lobby of Shinra company in CC that granted Zack a phoenix down.
> 
> One thing I might add is that I acknowledge that healing and recovery in terms of trauma is not as fast a process as the story might make it seem, and that's not the impression I intended to give. It's something that can take years, and lots of effort both on the behalf of the individual and others.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you miss column-POV? Well, it's back! As with the previous occurrences of the phenomenon, try reading one or two paragraphs from Sephiroth's point of view before jumping over to Genesis', and vice versa. Hopefully it's not too inconvenient.

Leaving Mideel was harder than Genesis had thought it would be but not because he felt like he belonged to the town. The knowledge that he had to leave one day had always been there in the back of his mind, he just hadn’t thought it would be so soon.

Jitsuke had insisted that he take one of the kimonos-which was really simple, silken but yet obviously well-kept which suggested it was valuable in some way-with him. The redhead had insisted that he couldn’t, but there was no changing the mind of the grey-haired woman. In fact, when the news of his departure had circulated around the small dwelling, most of the inhabitants had come to see him off; some of them bearing small trinkets they meant to give him as a keepsake. Surprised and grateful as he’d been, he had only been able to accept so many, albeit reluctantly because he didn’t gather stuff like that, and also because the pack he had slung on his shoulder was not a bottomless pit. It wasn’t like he was departing to never return either. Hidemaro had sternly insisted that the Tanakas were looking forward to seeing him again, asked him to write back the minute he had found somewhere to stay, and also _ tried _ to make him promise to come back with his ‘knight in shining armor’. A good laugh, and a swift change of subject later, he’d said his goodbyes and started his lonely trek toward the main road to hitch a ride to Banora. 

His previous hometown was flourishing after-from what he’d gathered from Sephiroth’s recollections-the aforementioned man’s unaccomplished attempt at razing it to the ground. It was a decent sight to see a couple of orchards dotting the plains here and there. Genesis had wanted to check his foster-parents’ house and also Angeal’s mother’s but the departure of the ship that was leaving the Mideel area for the Eastern Continent had been due, and he’d had to get on board.

Docking in Fort Condor, and attempting to take the first vehicle leaving for Midgar, he’d received some bewildered looks for reasons that were beyond him. It took longer than he’d liked to get to the metropolis, but he’d finally arrived there in one piece and slightly worse for wear due to the meager amount of sleep and rest he’d gotten along the way. 

The city certainly lacked its luster and bling-bling due to the heavy changes that were taking place on the power grid. Considering that he’d been the individual who’d blown up the mako reactors to bits, he felt responsible somewhat for being the perpetrator of such a drastic transformation, but he had to push it aside in favor of finding a temporary place to stay. Ideally, he’d have preferred to stick around and ask the civilians or maybe even head to a bar to get updated on the state of the metropolis and people’s lives, however his exhaustion had won over in the end. Residing in a ramshackle hotel in the slums-because he was terribly short-he’d proceeded to contact the head of one of his fanclubs, sworn them to secrecy for an exorbitant amount of hush money in exchange for getting him legal documents and an ID-which were forged but that was all he could come up with at the moment-in exchange for his beloved Rapier. While he’d tried convincing himself that he could still have his sword back whenever he so much as willed it, it’d been difficult to part with that which felt like a limb to him, something that was a part of who he was. Alas, the former Commander had known the harder he held onto it, it would have torn him apart further, so he’d let it go.

The money he’d received, even after subtracting the bribery he’d offered, was still beyond what he’d imagined. Apparently, everyone thought him dead after the Omega incident, and that has garnered him a _ posthumous _ hero status. It was both amusing and sad… Because while his past self would’ve probably felt on top of the world about it, he didn’t want it…didn’t want the attention… Heaven forbid they got wind that he’d survived. 

So, after getting the money and putting it inside a bank account under his new identity, he’d disappeared from the face of Midgar for a good couple of weeks, bought a small flat in one of the sectors that was more for middle and working classes than for businessmen, upper classes and the rich. He didn’t gather clutter around himself, opted for basic things, amenities that were just the base for a simple sort of life past Genesis would never see himself capable of living; some books started accumulating as his stay in Midgar lengthened, his bed was a convertible sofa that was surprisingly comfortable, and a dozen of outfits that would help him blend in with most people, and a guitar. 

Brushing up on his skills in the musical, he’d started playing in the streets, not really for the money-though it was a part of it-on most days he returned home empty handed and thanked his more logical self for not spending the money he’d earned from giving away his blade over extravagant possessions or luxurious living arrangements. He received several offers here and there to perform in small bars and cafes, but they were usually from young businesses that were just getting up on their feet, and even those were few and far in between. 

It was slow going, though Genesis didn’t mind as long as he was living in the same city his lover did. To live under the same sky more or less, even though it was a foolish vein of thought really, and sickeningly sentimental and romantic, but apparently it couldn’t be helped. He’d promised himself that he’d go to any press conferences Shinra held in the future, even if it meant that he’d just see the trio from dark faraway corners of the crowd. Followed the news on how things were progressing on radio, heard bits and pieces of it sometimes from passersby when he went to the park to play.

Viridiare Paths became his new haunt whenever he could go there; he’d sit and lie on the grass, enjoy a sky that wasn’t tinted with the greenish taint of mako fumes anymore. Sometimes, he caught himself imagining that he was still in Mideel. It was on one such occasion that he’d remembered that he’d promised to write to the Tanakas, and hastily yet no less unanimously he had started writing a letter detailing his endeavors and apologized for taking so long to fulfill what he’d promised. 

Accidentally passing by Zales and noticing the still gilded exterior of the shop, he’d suddenly been accosted by an urge to reach for his right ear, which in turn led to missing the earring he’d lost a lifetime ago. He could always go inside and buy a new one but he’d just smiled, stuck his hands in his pants pockets and continued his trek toward his house on foot, with his guitar on his back. 

He stayed away from any location that had ties with SOLDIER or Shinra where there was a possibility-even a slim one-that he’d be recognized as though those places were stricken with the plague. However, he’d given in once to the desire to loiter beyond Shinra tower gates; as in, worked up the courage to set up a temporary post and play in the park that was immediately on the other side of the entrance. That was when he’d found out there was a plaque with his name among many countless, faceless others who’d lost their lives in the Omega incident at the base of an abstract monument commemorating the apocalyptic event. There was no way he could explain the sharp pang he’d felt in his heart when his hand had touched the letters.

Thus, due to his rush of bravado t not having been recognized, it was during such idiotic endeavor one evening that he nearly ran into Sephiroth quite literally. The younger ex-soldier was accompanied by his sire and Angeal, all three of them strolling leisurely toward the center of the park. Thankfully, the hood of his sweater had been on his head when he’d hastily mumbled an apology, and strode past the trio clutching the strap of his guitar gig bag harder as he’d walked away.

After putting a good amount of distance in the opposite direction between them, he’d been unable not to give in to his urge, and so he’d turned to gaze longingly at them only to find Sephiroth watching him back through dancing strands of moonlight, lingering behind the grey-haired First and Vincent. He’d later realized that in his haste to get away along with the windy weather, he’d lost the protection of the hood of his sweater. There was a high chance though that the green-eyed individual wouldn’t recognize him with his low man bun and fake glasses, but it had hardly mattered at the time because he hadn’t been able to break out of his trance; hadn’t been able to stop his heart from going full _ thump-thump-thump _ at the sight of his lover so up close. 

Just as he hadn’t been able to stop the expression from stretching over his lips; a smile genuine and overflowing with love. 

He hadn’t been able to stand there any longer, because the longer he remained, the less resolute he’d become in keeping his distance, logistically or otherwise. 

So pulling the hood of his sweater back on and striding toward the exit, Genesis hadn’t waited for the silver-haired man to answer or to follow, as the former Commander hoped against hope that Sephiroth would chalk it up to some nostalgic illusion. It seemed then that someone called his name, only to have two other voices rise to question him...their tones worried and then softening into something sympathetic. There was a cluster of murmerings, one of them resigned and the other’s gentle before-even at the pace at which he was retreating-it became clear that they were continuing onwards...away. 

It seemed that the heavens chose that exact evening to pour down. And thankfully while he had been inside by then when it was raining cats and dogs, he hadn’t been able to stop feeling as if the walls were closing in on around him, accosting him with a feeling of fight or flight. He realized that he missed Mideel…missed inhaling the petrichor deep into his lungs, hearing the pitter-patter of heavy droplets against greenery and the chilly embrace of muddy soil under him. Sure, he could go out on the street and act like a total lunatic, but that wasn’t going to work. So, instead he’d sat among the several cushions on his bay window with a mug of swiftly cooling coffee in his hands and stared at how rain drops trailed down on the other side of the panes of glass.

Jeans, turtleneck, flight jacket. All dark colors, and Genesis had missed how casual wear looked on the younger man, how much of a striking figure he cut… The minute he’d arrived home, he’d changed into a turtleneck, pulled the collar up and tried to imagine the silver-haired man’s scent on it… It was almost enough to make him want to run back to Funaraoi…if only it was to steal some of Sephiroth’s clothes so he could keep them here with himself. To wear them whenever staying away became too hard to bear… 

In a spur of impulse, he’d bought a cellphone on the next day of their chance encounter, ran back to the headquarters; and while the security at the entrance was as it had always been-if it’d been slightly more lax, the redhead hadn’t noticed, intent on his mission as he was-he’d managed to get in and get out without having his cover blown. Reverting back to his old ways, even if it was only for a couple of minutes, had been slightly more taxing than Genesis would have liked to admit. But since he’d worn his nicest clothes and tried to put on his best behavior as he flirted with the secretary inside the lobby, the former Commander was pretty sure that the note containing his number and a simple line in flowing cursive reading _ ‘Call me’ _ would reach his intended recipient. 

However, he wasn’t sure Sephiroth would. That was exactly why he left the rest of the matters to the hands of chance and fate.

He didn’t go near the headquarters at all after that, went about his usual routine of playing on the streets and living his life in solitude. The redhead knew that as much as his silver-haired lover might be a changed man, he was probably still reluctant to conform to suspicious letters like the one he’d sent, _ ordering _ him to do things when there wasn’t any reason behind them to. He’d made peace with the fact that as much as they had loved each other-that Genesis _ still did _ -despite all the ephemeral moments that were suspended from the thread of his lifeline like priceless diamonds, they simply weren’t meant to be… And it was _ alright _, even though it made something sharp stab in his heart. But Sephiroth was happy, and Genesis wasn’t going to force himself on the interim General’s life and happiness; wouldn’t take away his chance at a normal life from him by meddling in affairs that were progressing just as smoothly without him.

**Sephiroth**

| 

**Genesis**  
  
---|---  
  
| 

It took him forever to gather up the courage to use the number.

He spent days staring at the receiver wondering if he really wanted to do this. And if he _did _do this...if the individual at the other end would be real. The handwriting was a pretty good indicator, but you could forge a signature if you tried hard enough. He kept the note to himself, because he was fairly sure if he didn’t he might be inundated with far too much fretting and mother-henning on all sides. When he’d seen Genesis-seen the person that _looked _like Genesis-in the park, he’d called out to him without really thinking about it. It had alarmed Vincent and Angeal, because he’d never gone so far as to look for the redhead in strangers. They’d been quick to correct but at the same time reassure. Vincent had shadowed him worriedly for several days, as if frightened that if he let him out of his sight he’d leave and chase his ‘phantoms’ back into misery. Angeal was more subtle about it, striking up random conversations that weren’t really random or subtle at all. And it was very nice to have two people around who obviously cared so much, but it was also a little bit irksome because Sephiroth was an _adult.  
_

_“Hello?”_

So, he called. Specifically, he said goodnight to his father and his friend, ran several flights up while he had the courage and dialed the number purely from memorization alone. And when that familiar voice picked up on the other end of the line he promptly fell to pieces mentally and it took him a solid two minutes to pick himself back up again. Because he still didn’t want to fool himself, and he didn’t want to dishonor Genesis’ memory by giving in to an imposter so easily.

“I need you to say it.” He said tightly. “Not because you mean it but because I need to know it’s you.”

Initially, he knew what he was asking for, knew what specific _word _he was asking for. A part of his psyche wanted to hear it just for the thrill of listening to that velvet tone force it out. He quashed that facet with an iron fist and hung on to cordiality because if he didn’t, and this _was _Genesis, he was going to get angry. Because where had he been? Did he decide to leave him because what they’d had wasn’t enough anymore? And he hated the part of him that still wanted to be enough...the part of him that didn’t fall in line with who he was now all the time.

_“It’s me...Genesis.”  
_

Upon further deliberation, he realized that no matter what way he wanted to look at it, requesting something so intimate was insensitive. It was a word Genesis had used sparingly, only in the most deeply emotional moments between them. Asking for it specifically was a little like asking the older man to pull his teeth out and pass them through the phone. And he didn’t want to be so pushy, didn’t want to have to go to such extremes to ensure that he wasn’t being taken advantage of. But history had taught him that situations like this...situations where things were vague and uncertain were fraught with peril.

“That’s not good enough” he responded. “That doesn’t tell me who you are. Anyone could use your name...mimicking your voice...harder...but still possible. And again, I’m not asking because I need reassurance of any type of feelings. I need to know it’s you, and not someone pretending to be you. I’m not going to...hold it over your head or use it against you. I just...it’s been so long, and I can’t afford to be careless, I won’t be careless with your memory.” A pause, and the distance seemed to yawn. “Tell me...something. It doesn’t have to be that. Something that only I would know, only _he _would know.”

If he accepted it then he was-effectively-turning his life upside-down. And it wasn’t that he didn’t _want _the older man in his life, it was that he’d grown comfortable with _his _life the way that it was. Complacent, normal and maybe a little bit boring but at least it was predictable. And that wasn’t to say that the former Commander came with a giant package of unpredictability, it was just that their track record spoke for itself. Dying, being reunited...dying and then being reunited again. And he didn’t know if he could go through that a third time....didn’t know if he could pick the pieces of himself up quite as well as he had before.

Because Sephiroth was a creature of habituality, and just because he was slightly more social didn’t mean he hadn’t fallen back into his tendencies towards rigidity again. He had people who he could talk to, people who cared about him. ...He often told himself he was satisfied and fulfilled and the idea that someone who he hadn’t seen in a year could waltz in and so easily make him wonder if that was enough was _terrifying._

_“Ashayam…”_

But Genesis _did _hold that power. He held that power enough that when that single word was spoken to him he nearly dropped his phone. And it took the redhead a long time to get to it...long enough to mention when they’d made love in the President’s office and when he’d gotten the younger man the bracelet that was now likely dissolved in the Lifestream. Long enough for the former Commander to profess his continued feelings for him and long enough for Sephiroth to nearly lose his head and hang up because he was _frightened, _and it had been a long time since he was frightened. There was a part of him that didn’t want to believe it despite the truth that was in his face. A part of him that was scared of the _part of him _that loved Genesis because that love was unconditional and undying and it made him do stupid, terrible, awful things just to prove it.

And the silence was stretching onward and onward...longer and longer and the more time that passed between that singular verbalization of truth the less he knew what to say. A thousand questions came to mind; _‘Where were you?’ ‘Why didn’t you contact me?’ ‘Were you taken prisoner?’ ‘Did someone threaten you, threaten _**_us_**_?’_

_‘....Was it something I said?’  
_

_‘...Something I did?’_

And when he opened his mouth to speak again, it was with an entirely hysterical mindset, so what came out of it was so stupid and so completely unfocused he didn’t really understand what he’d said until after he’d said it.

“I kissed Angeal.”

There was silence on the other end of the line and he could sense rather than see that the redhead was struggling to put the pieces of their conversation together. And Sephiroth was angry with himself because obviously he was a few brain cells short of an earthworm and he had no control over his conversational functions.

“I didn’t mean to, but we thought you were dead and we were drunk.” Autopilot, apparently, had no limits. “Where have you been?” He gazed somewhat pleadingly at an environmental award that some university had given to him. It didn’t offer him any advice. “Also, Vincent has a cat.” Sephiroth wanted to die a painful death; anything would be more humiliating than this. “I think it would be prudent if you spoke first.”

Maybe it was not prudent. Because Genesis promptly started to cry and he was so horrified he wanted to melt into the floor. Because while Sephiroth excelled at many things, comfort was not one of them. And the redhead laughed at first; quiet, brief, and soft; which he took as somewhat of a good side. When this quickly morphed into gut-wrenching sobs he nearly threw his phone across the room because he had _never _been good at this sort of thing. He’d comforted the older man before, but it was different after so long and he was-effectively-tongue tied.

_“Talk, just...talk...about anything.”  
_

His initial inclination was to lean towards work. What Shinra had been doing and what the city had been morphing into. Sephiroth was fairly sure that Genesis would not appreciate this, but it was hard not to lean to the part of himself that wanted to talk business...because business was very comfortable and orderly. Adversely, he did have somewhat of a social life now, and he didn’t know if the blue-eyed ex-First cared to hear about it, but that was all he could come up with in the heat of the moment. He could-of course-address the dark part of him that wanted to burn everything to the ground when he wasn’t busy wearing rose-colored glasses but that would have been equally unattractive.

“I’ve procured an apartment” he said flatly. “But most of the time I sleep on Angeal’s couch.” Standing-needing something to do with his feet-he began to pace. “Not so much since D-since _Vincent_-started walking again. They’re so infatuated with each other I can’t tolerate it.” He paused and studied an offending spot on his otherwise spotless living room floor. Making a mental note to clean it up, he continued. “Angeal’s cooking is terrible but if I don’t eat he follows me around all day and complains, and if I’m not there to listen to the radio every Wednesday he sends a squadron out to drag me back.” Sephiroth made a face. “It only occurred once, but once was enough for me to know better. D-_Vincent_ takes two hours to read the newspaper and I think he takes a sort of savage pleasure in throwing current events at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention.”

Genesis’ crying had somewhat abated, so he continued.

“Tseng invites me down for cards every other week, but Reno gets angry when I win too much so I attempt to go as little as possible. Lazard eats sandwiches under his office table because his secretary harasses him and Reeve sleeps in the lounge on Thursdays.” He paused and then rambled mindlessly onwards. “I had my position as General reinstated two weeks after...after everything. Mostly I defer to Angeal but...it’s been different. Different but not unpleasant. I wouldn’t say that it’s enjoyable but it’s tolerable.”

By the time he ceased his tirade the older man seemed to be more composed. He wasn’t crying anymore, at least, which was something.

_“Can you...come here?”_

Sephiroth felt-effectively-put on the spot. Not in an indignant way, but in a conflicted way. Because he didn’t know exactly what Genesis wanted from him...well...he did. But he didn’t know if it was wise to jump into things before making it clear what they wanted from each other...long term. And it was tempting to just give in, to throw caution to the wind and figure things out later, but they had always done that, and it had always been to their peril. There was no doubt that he wanted Genesis, at all. But he also wanted to have some form of balance in his life...because he didn’t know who he was going to be without that balance. He’d spent so much time without Genesis he didn’t know how to act...didn’t really know who he was at all save for a vague definition undertoned with a virulent kind of morbidity. Realistically, such a mindset was rather selfish...because there was also the stark truth that he’d been treated fairly and kindly, and to drop all of that with not so much as a _‘thanks much’ _seemed extremely insensitive and ungrateful. But he’d never been very sensitive or grateful, and as much as he wanted to tell himself that his proclivities were due to a newfound affection for those around him...they weren’t. He was just stuck. The concept of being stuck was abhorrent.

They wouldn’t be able to do this as they’d done things before.

The realization of this was bittersweet, but also painful. Because while Sephiroth had been busy trying to hold himself together, Genesis hadn’t been there to see him do it. And he didn’t know how to communicate his reticence-his _fear _of himself-without making it seem like he was pushing the former Commander away. And he knew he was thinking far ahead, but it was habitual, ingrained from months spent planning the reconstruction of city infrastructure and economic growth. Pausing, the younger man ceased his pacing and hunted around for a notepad, scribbled out a memo to Angeal letting him know that he was alright, but he’d gone out for the remainder of the night, and that he didn’t know when he’d be back. He deliberated for a moment before adding a few things regarding his schedule for the next day and a missive for Reeve-because apparently Reeve was senile and couldn’t remember meetings-and then another for Vincent because if he didn’t he was fairly sure Vincent would go into hysterics. And it sometimes felt like he was running around after a bunch of toddlers but at least they were happy toddlers running a positive regime than blind toddlers running a corrupt regime. Refocusing on the call, he opened his mouth.

“...Just to talk” he said warily. 

When Genesis’ voiced his assent, something about it rankled him, but he didn't focus on it. Instead, he waited for the older man to give him the address, time stretching out between them until he was forced to speak again.

“Genesis” he deadpanned.

The former Commander declared that he didn't have his number and he felt a little bit stupid but disregarded the emotion in favor of reciting the aforementioned numerical sequence. When it was given, he said he would see the blue-eyed man soon and hung up before he could change his mind. He was still in uniform, but there was nothing for it. It would take too long to unbuckle everything in order to find something else and he didn’t feel like going through the ordeal of picking something out. He’d long ago removed the criss-crossed leathers at the chest area and replaced bare skin with a black undershirt, because he was no longer a young adult who felt the need to go around bare-chested. He was also without his pauldrons and gloves, which was fine. Ideally, he’d have thrown on an old T-shirt and sweatpants but he felt like that was so blatantly casual it was almost offensive. He left Masamune behind. Since Omega’s fall, he’d never been presented with an opportunity where he was forced to use it, and so it stayed on a rack just behind his sofa unless he happened to need to be in full uniform. His leathers he wore more often, because they were familiar and assuaged the occasional anxiety he got when he was in certain areas of HQ. Running his hand through his hair, he habitually retrieved his keycard and pulled the front door open, taping the note to it and then closing it once more as he made his way down the hall.

Most of HQ was silent...though during the day it wasn’t very busy either. He took the elevator down alone and the security guard gave him a friendly nod of recognition but otherwise didn’t say anything. Sephiroth was-briefly-accosted by two Seconds that happened to be members of his squad who were on sentry duty, but he was able to shake them off with relative ease. Outside of Headquarters, the streets were eerily dark. You couldn’t power street lamps with kerosene, so the byways of Midgar were plunged into blackness once night fell. It took him a while to identify where he was going as he squinted at the street signs-lack of mako did have occasional setbacks-but he eventually found his way.

Genesis’ flat was situated in the middle class area of Midgar, which meant it was on the Upper Plate but just barely. It took him an hour to get there, and by then he was feeling just slightly tired. Approaching the designated high rise, he had to fight hard not to turn around and walk away. Because this could either go very well, or very negatively. He was-effectively-going to the home of someone he had spent a lengthy amount of time in a relationship with in the middle of the night. That alone sent a very adverse message, but there was no time to go back on it now. Stepping into yet another elevator, Sephiroth walked to the rear of it and let his spine hit the wall, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as he exhaled loudly, bangs fluttering. He had maybe a minute’s respite before a loud ding nearly made him jump out of his skin before he shook the sound off and strode into the hallway...ignoring the multitude of doors he passed before coming to the right one...double checking the numbers in his head before knocking three times and then stepping back into the middle of the hallway, his hands behind his back, listening to the sound of someone moving about inside.   
  
---  
  
It was a good month after he’d left the note at the lobby, when he’d nearly forgotten all about it that an unknown number flashed on the screen of his phone. Halfway into a book with a glass of wine cradled in his hand as he was settling himself in for the night, he’d taken a glance at the ringing device before flipping it open.

“Hello?”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment, and he was very tempted to hang up. Nevertheless, he waited patiently-if a little distractedly-as he flipped through his book. It was a good one, surprisingly. He’d picked it up at a curbside sale for a few gil. It was heavy; beautifully detailed with illustrations that were less about textual comprehension and more about adding depth to the content. Despite the fact that it was used, it was in near mint condition and the binding was nearly flawless. After he’d purchased it, he’d deliberated on returning it to the owner because there was simply _no way _that someone would relinquish such a treasure willingly. Then again, not everyone could appreciate the aesthetic of a book, and he maintained that fact as the reasoning for why he had kept it. Several times, he’d been tempted to hand it in to the artifact organization that was rumored to be on the lower plate. It was almost a crime that such a beautiful book had been sold for a couple gil, but now that he had it he was hard-pressed to get rid of it. When the individual on the other end of the line spoke, his hand tightened on his glass, but that was his only external reaction. 

_“I need you to say it… Not because you mean it but because I need to know it’s you.” _

Deep baritone, familiar and yet somehow unfamiliar. Sephiroth’s voice was deliberately toneless, though it seemed he was straining to keep his emotions at bay; something the Sephiroth of yore would have done with no effort at all. 

And it was his turn to be speechless now as his heart skipped a beat. Putting his glass aside before he could spill it on himself, on the sofa or his treasure book, Genesis switched the device from one hand to the other; tried listening to the silence on the other side of the line, straining to hear the younger man’s almost inaudible breathing, before suddenly becoming self-conscious about his own. It was really easy what the interim General had asked of him, but for some stupid, idiotic reason he seemed to have swallowed his own tongue and couldn’t come up with an answer. 

Because what did he have to say now, after a year of being away? After believing the silver-haired man was dead?

The witty part of him wanted to come up with something elaborate, greet him in Wutain, but just as quickly as the thought had crossed his mind, the redhead kicked it aside before finally opening his mouth to answer.

“It’s me. Genesis.” Pain bloomed in his chest, and he had to clasp his other hand over his lips not to make a sound, not to follow it up with an apology...because what if Sephiroth had been happy and he’d now effectively and utterly dashed it to pieces? 

Again there was silence, and he was beginning to think this was pointless. Obviously they had reached a point where not a lot could be said. Then, the silver-haired man sighed and it was a resigned sort of noise. 

_“That’s not good enough…That doesn’t tell me who you are. Anyone could use your name...mimicking your voice...harder...but still possible. And again, I’m not asking because I need reassurance of any type of feelings. I need to know it’s you, and not someone pretending to be you. I’m not going to...hold it over your head or use it against you. I just...it’s been so long, and I can’t afford to be careless, I won’t be careless with your memory……Tell me...something. It doesn’t have to be that. Something that only I would know, only he would know.” _

He couldn’t do this standing where he was, suddenly felt weak in his knees and promptly had to sit down. This time, he didn’t wait just as long to answer, because he couldn’t stop himself...couldn’t afford to lose this now that Sephiroth had called him. And his number was blocked, if he hung up, there was no way Genesis could call him back… The idea was terrifying in a muted sort of way, because the flames of their love had been rekindled the moment he’d seen the interim General’s visage on the telly, and now it was an open fire. On his part at least.

Looking away from the point in the wall he’d been boring holes into, the former Commander answered, his voice low. “I don’t suppose telling you about how I spoke Wutain the last time we made love together would work… Neither would telling you about the bracelet I got you from Zales on our first date…” He paused, albeit briefly. “I know you gave me leeway of not stating it, and I know you won’t hold it over me… It’s just… I don’t want to _ruin _your life Sephiroth, especially when you’re _happy_… I just… It seems I… I couldn’t stay away. My feelings for you… They haven’t changed… ” The redhead swallowed, his voice trembled slightly as he continued. “_...Ashayam._”

The static on the other line droned onwards… It seemed to stretch into an eternity as he waited for Sephiroth to answer. He wanted to break the quiet a couple of times, but found that he couldn’t every time. A small voice inside him _begged_ the younger man to say something, anything… To just _talk_…about anything and everything… But Genesis was content. He was just content to listen to the almost inaudible inhalation and exhalations on the other side of the line…and it was easy for his mind to wander, to numerous nights he’d woken up just to watch the silver-haired man breathe in his sleep beside him… But he reigned it in, because he couldn’t…

_“I kissed Angeal.”_

_“Vincent has a cat.”_

Joy bubble up inside him of its own accord and he could do naught to hold it back. It overflowed past his lips in a mirthful quiet kind of laugh… And Goddess, he’d missed this… Missed that voice… The awkward dialogues…

_“Where have you been?”_

What was Genesis going to tell him? That he had been working on a couple of paddy fields for a whole year? Lived in the countryside among people who’d so easily accepted him as one of their own instead of being there beside his lover, beside his childhood friend… 

The former Commander surprised himself when he caught himself sobbing instead of laughing; confused, as he found himself wiping at his eyes with the ball of his free hand while he tried distancing himself from the receiver of the phone because he was being obnoxious, and it didn’t seem that he could stop any time soon. 

If he had Sephiroth’s number, he would have hung up and called him later when he was more composed, but he didn’t and he had to make do with what he had.

“‘M s-sorry.” He sniffed slightly, his voice a broken thing when he spoke again, after a long pause. “Please… Seph,” And he didn’t know what he was asking for. “Talk, just... talk… about anything.”

Thankfully, the silver-haired General did, even though it was after another long pause, and Genesis could almost imagine the gears turning in the younger man’s head. What Sephiroth said afterwards though was rather unexpected, in ways that made him smile through his tears. And he briefly wondered if he’d effectively lost his head, because anyone who saw him then would probably think he was insane.

It was endearing to hear about what his lover had been up to during the time they had been apart… Even more so when the deep velvety voice on the other side stumbled and stopped itself from calling Vincent _‘Dad’_ a couple of times. Trying to imagine what he was listening to made him smile so that there were brief infinitesimal bouts of quiet laughter, but he was still crying. And it was weird because he wasn’t feeling sad at all… 

If his past self would call it sappy that Sephiroth’s happiness was making him so overjoyed he seemed to have lost all semblances of control over his facial features and expressions, then so be it.

When the younger man finished, he’d finally stopped, gathered himself enough to be able to talk-even though his voice was somewhat rough and wavering-and it was to utter the most ridiculous and utterly rude vocalization. Because he’d dismissed the younger man’s efforts at trying to comfort him and respecting his request earlier. Instead, he was asking for something he probably didn’t have the right to, especially not after all this time. After not knowing so many things that might have happened during the one year they’d been apart, things he might never have the privilege of being privy to.

“Do you…” And it was odd, the hesitation, the question when he could have gone for the imperative, but Genesis couldn’t, shouldn’t. Not after so long. He had to give Sephiroth time and space, and if the younger man didn’t want him in his life that would be okay. 

It just occurred to him that he didn’t know if his lover was seeing someone.

“Are you…” He faltered again… And then decided to hell with being prudent. “Can you… come here? If _you_...don’t mind?” He was tempted to add an ‘or anyone’ but bit his tongue.

Again, it seemed to take forever for Sephiroth to answer, and it was a little scary as his brain tried to come up with reasons as to why his lover was hesitating to answer him. It was a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question. The fact that he’d stated his feelings for his former comrade but hadn’t heard anything in return, made him wonder if in fact the silver-haired General was romantically involved with someone. 

Trying to stop his thoughts through sheer will alone proved to be futile. So, while it was obvious the green-eyed General was doing other stuff on the other side of the line, the former Commander picked up his book, absentmindedly flipping through the pages to get to the one he’d been on. Dog-earing the paper, he brushed his thumb over the cover as he contemplated if he should come up with a ‘Never mind’ or an apology before saying ‘Forget about it’. Not in a indignant or jealous manner, more in the sense of acknowledging that he’d overstepped his boundaries and had to go back. 

_“...Just to talk.” _

It was uttered with an air of caution. 

Genesis crossed the word lover out of his dictionary, especially when it was associated with the silver-haired individual he was going to meet. 

It was okay.

“Okay.” The scarlet-haired ex-soldier spoke quietly. “I’ll text you the address.”

He waited for Sephiroth to hang up first and let his mind wander. Found himself smiling quite dumbly at the wall when he thought about the fortunate individual who was able to make his former comrade so undeniably happy. Of course, there were Vincent and Angeal; maybe he should add Tseng and Reeve too. Reno, well, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t see Sephiroth getting along with the redheaded Turk. Tseng, Reeve and Veld were all quiet, work-oriented if not workaholic individuals very much like the silver-haired General. And of course, Lazard… Genesis smiled. The blonde bespectacled man had always had a weak spot for SOLDIER and most especially them, at least in the past. 

When the silence yawned between them and the younger man on the other end didn’t hang up and called his name instead, it felt like Genesis had been awakened from a trance. The desire to ask the General to call his name again had been there…to hear that velvety voice rolling around consonants and vowels in the same way that always made him feel special…made him feel _reborn_…in throes of pleasure…in his earliest waking moments…suspended in the ether like perfect spheres of rain… But he didn’t have the right to ask. Not anymore. 

Instead, he focused on the mental image that he’d been accosted with, could almost picture a platinum eyebrow arched at the phone on the other end, only to realize belatedly in a befuddled haze that he couldn’t send Sephiroth the address when he didn’t have his phone number.

“I don’t have your number.” He stated plainly, almost dumbly.

This time Sephiroth replied immediately, gave him his phone number, quickly followed by a ‘I’ll see you soon’ and hung up. 

The redhead was grateful that they didn’t have to continue with the sudden awkwardness that had slowly crawled into their conversation after his blatantly rude question. The General had handled it rather gracefully, which was a good sign.

Leaving the cellphone on the sofa, he proceeded to convert it from its bed form to the couch one before striding around the house to make sure everything was in a state of tidiness rather than messiness which seemed to be unavoidable wherever he lived. It wasn’t time-consuming at all, considering he had little personal belongings and the flat he lived in wasn’t too spacious. 

It was something between a studio and a single-room house, though the only space that was separated from the rest of the living space by a door, was the bathroom which was thankfully not dingy at all, or Genesis might have pulled his hair out. It was actually one of the spaces in the house that he really liked, after the bay window in the bedroom which was connected to the main area with an archway at the end of a wide and rather short hallway. There was also the kitchen that was only separated from the living room by a row of counters. 

Looking at the said counters, red eyebrows furrowed because of course, he didn’t have any stools for sitting. While he might be comfortable lounging on his couch and stuffing his face-which only happened when he was having dinner as he was outside most of the time-his former comrade might not want to do that. Taking into account that it was also past dinnertime and Sephiroth might not want to stay around long enough to eat, in addition to it being definitely way too late to order a couple of dining chairs, he shrugged and busied himself with continuing as he had been when the silver-haired man had called. 

He’d caught himself dozing off almost three quarters after they had ended their call, and then decided to take a quick tepid shower to wake himself up. Standing by the window as he watched the blackness that always fell over the city during the night, he’d wondered that maybe Sephiroth was coming all the way to his apartment on foot instead of taking a cab or any other form of transportation. It had made him arch a long-suffering yet bemused eyebrow at nothing and no one in particular while he tried to contemplate the reason for such behavior, before tossing the matter aside in favor of picking up something to wear that wasn’t ostentatiously formal and yet not too casual either.

An image of Jitsuke forcing him to wear a kimono came to his head and he’d nearly rolled on the floor with laughter as he tried to shut up the small voice in his head that suggested he’d be peacocking for Sephiroth if he did something like that; he settled for a dark plain long-sleeved shirt and matching pants, instead. The closet occupied the largest wall of the bedroom space which was bare except for his guitar and its bag, and a handful of books that were scattered here and there. Deciding that if he spent one more minute in the room, he might end up sorely regretting inviting Sephiroth over, he’d made his way out toward the kitchen when the man of the hour arrived at his door.  
  
Pushing down his heart that had nearly leaped to his throat, Genesis ran a hand through his hair, looked through the eyehole-in a gesture he quickly categorized as utterly stupid, because no one would come to his house at this hour-before opening the door. Raising an elegant eyebrow as he took in the interim General’s immaculate yet somewhat tired presence, Genesis offered the same genuine smile he’d flashed at the younger man in the park. 

“_ Gobusata desu _ _ , Sefirosu.[1]_” The expression on his lips was tinged with sadness of the time they had lost as he stepped to the side so the silver-haired man could come in while he observed the aforementioned man’s reaction to his words.

Sephiroth offered a somewhat haggard ‘good evening’, nodded, and then crossed over the threshold. Politely, the younger man didn't make a great show of examining his apartment like some might do. Why people felt the need to gawk and stare whenever entering someone else's living space he didn't know. Instead, the silver-haired Soldier stopped just inside the door and then turned back expectantly, waiting for him to lead. Genesis gestured for him to make himself comfortable on the couch and made his own way toward the kitchen.

“I'll have to be back at HQ sooner than I'd like” Sephiroth remarked, and there was a hoarse quality to his voice brought on by weariness. Leaning against the countertops, he paused and worried at the sleeve to his uniform before apparently giving up and turning his head to look at the former Commander. “With the power nearly reestablished we’re crunched for time and if I'm not there the figures won’t come out correctly. I don't kno-” The General had the graciousness to pause and seemed to realize he was talking about work. “Are you staying?”

There were-of course-a thousand questions behind those eyes. _ ‘Why are you even here if you left?’ ‘Why _ ** _did _ ** _ you leave without telling anyone?’ ‘Why did you give me your phone number?’ _

The former Commander wasn’t sure if it was his greeting that might have come off as trying too hard or the fact that the meaning of it was lost on the General. He also knew for a fact that Sephiroth wasn’t someone who was open to receiving and offering friendly gestures, especially when it came to long periods of time apart-even if it was a simple hug, not that the redhead was a cuddly person-so that was also out of question. Not knowing what to do and also somewhat regretting the way he’d welcomed the younger man, Genesis couldn’t help but feel the awkwardness of their conversation on the phone to have followed the General here to his house. Pushing it aside and turning around to busy himself by taking two glasses, even though he already had his on the coffee table, the ex-Commander offered over his shoulder, not at all hiding the pained streak in his voice. “I thought you were dead.” He paused, cradling the drinkware in his hands as he looked down at them, adding quietly. “I mourned you for a year before I found out you were alive in that press conference.” Turning around, he gazed at the individual in front of him, still not quite believing that he was there, and that they were actually talking face to face. Giving the younger man a lopsided somewhat somber smile, the redhead sauntered passed the counters toward the couch. “Wine?” Glancing over his shoulder, he asked in a voice that was slightly more stern that he’d wanted it to be.

At the mention of alcohol, a slightly nauseous expression crossed over Sephiroth's features, apparently born from a memory. 

“No thank you, I think if I have any I'll fall asleep on your living room floor.” was the dry reply. “Water would be welcome.” When the former Commander looked at him, confused, a sheepish expression crossed aquiline features. The General pushed away from the counter and moved towards him so he could pluck one of the glasses from his fingers and carry it to the sink. “I walked here.” He added over his shoulder by way of explanation. There was a gravid pause before the younger man continued. “I mourned you as well, for a long time.” An unsteady breath. “Until I acknowledged that you likely wouldn't want me to mourn you.” There was the ghost of a smile on familiar lips. “That you'd probably be rather... passionately adverse to it. So I did what I could.” A slight tilt of the head and moonlight colored hair spilled over one shoulder. “I wish we'd known…” He trailed off. “I'm not the only one who mourned you.” was the quiet remark, tinged with a brittle sadness. “I'm not sure who mourned you more really.” 

Sephiroth didn't have to say who he was talking about, it was apparent between them. Genesis acknowledged that it wasn't an accusatory tone coming from the younger man, more a sad one. Beryl eyes lingered on him for a minute before sweeping away as his former comrade shut off the faucet and returned to his post next to the counter. 

“That being said, I'm very glad you're not dead.” Taking a long sip and setting his glass on the counter, the General continued. “I'm... certainly surprised.” Green eyes crinkled at the corners. “Though not unpleasantly, of course.”

Genesis was conflicted on the matter that he wished he’d known or being grateful that he actually didn’t. A part of him wanted to have been with Sephiroth, but maybe if he had, the silver-haired man wouldn’t have had the chance to be as happy as he’d been when he’d seen him; that he wouldn’t have been able to connect with Angeal and the crimson-eyed ex-Turk on the level he seemed to now. Also, there was the fact that the time he’d spent in Mideel had done him some good; and while he’d stayed away knowing that the dark-haired General would be dealing with a lot alone, Genesis couldn’t help but acknowledge that in his state of mind, he might have been more of a hindrance than someone his childhood friend could’ve relied on. 

Crossing his left leg over his right, he leaned back on the couch, and tilted an auburn head, a wan smile on his lips before he brought his glass up to take a sip. “I washed up on Mideel. I don’t know how I ended up there. I was…_ farming _ .” A sheepish grin stretched across his lips, half-hidden behind the wineglass as he ducked his head somewhat, breaking eye contact as he felt heat rise up to his cheekbones. “In regards to your other question, I think I’m staying yes. I don’t want to come back, but I…” A brief pause. “I’d like to see your happiness from near rather than from far.” Setting his glass down, he busied himself with taking the book sitting beside him on the couch off and displacing it on the pristine surface in front of him. “Your _ dad _ seems healthy. I’m glad the Jenova cells worked.” Finally having no excuse to continue avoiding those beryl eyes, he leant back again, before querying with a wry smile. “Who’s the lucky fellow?”

Sephiroth looked mildly surprised at the idea of farming, his lip twitched slightly but the mention of Mideel seemed to take greater focus. The pain that flashed across his visage was quickly buried, but it was telling. At the mention of Vincent, Sephiroth flushed slightly but didn't look embarrassed. The General then proceeded to appear genuinely confused. 

“There's no one.” He said, sounding a bit bewildered. “I don't have time to…” The silver-haired man cast around for a word. “Endure courtship.” He muttered, looking somewhat horrified at the thought. He appeared to hesitate before continuing onward. “I... still have feelings for you. But...I think we both have very different lifestyles, different outlooks. I don't want to pursue anything without figuring out whether we could actually make this work; what either of us are willing to do to make it work...what we aren't willing to do.”

The flabbergasted expression on the former Commander’s face slowly morphed into an expression of relief. While his brain had come up with the idea of abstinence earlier and a rather absurd mental image of a monk Sephiroth briefly, the younger man’s later words had quickly ameliorated the situation. Closing his eyes for a few moments, Genesis just let the words sink in, relished the warm sweet ache expanding in his chest before opening his eyes and gazing at the silver-haired General with the longing that had accompanied his hours back in Mideel; with the affection that suffused his very being and the irresistible desire that was insatiable. It was not a desire to consummate, not a desire for the physical but solely for the individual before him.

“You’ve grown quite attached to your life here.” The blue-eyed ex-First stated plainly. “And I’m not saying it’s a bad thing…not at all. I came here accepting that I could never be a part of your lives again, and was content to just watching your happiness.” The redhead looked away. “I don’t want you to give up anything for me, or uproot your life here and come back to Funaraoi… or Mideel.” An infinitesimal intermission. “I don’t think working for Shinra is what you want. Jit-the old couple who gave us a place to stay when we visited,” Genesis explained. “They took me in, cared for me, and I worked on their field for them in exchange. They told me to bring you back with me someday…” Glancing at the still standing black-clad figure in front of him, he smiled somewhat sheepishly. “Though you don’t strike me as a farmer either. So, I guess, it’s up to you, General Sephiroth.”

“I'd take Funaraoi over Mideel” Sephiroth said idly, his eyes distant. “And I could never enjoy farming, no. I don't...when I thought you were dead, I had to find a facet of myself that wasn't rooted in solidarity, if I hadn't, I don't think I'd be here. As strange as it sounds, Shinra did care for me. I enjoy working...which Lazard was aware of. SOLDIER isn't about honor or bravery or heroism anymore.” A wry chuckle. “And it's certainly a relief. It's quiet, steady but peaceful. Angeal is possibly the best friend I could have asked for, Vincent is supportive.” A frown crept over this features. “...So I like to tell myself anyway. I suppose it should be a little bit healing...to know that you can make something so terrible into something honest and worthwhile. And it was easy to put the anger behind me when I was creating something better...easier to look at things as they should be...not as they were.” A smile. “Like taking rotten wheat and making a field from the seeds...more fruitful and more plentiful than before.” The younger man's shoulders slumped. “But...I don't need that sort of thing.” A wry smile that poorly masked the sadness in those beryl eyes. “I'll...need time, to wrap things up here responsibly, and it'll probably be good for us to take things slow, initially anyway.” 

Sephiroth set his glass down and moved away, put it in the sink and then returned, his expression unreadable. Genesis who had stood up from his seat and had sauntered slowly toward the General’s former post, met him there. 

When he grabbed the younger man’s hands, his companion tensed, and the redhead himself couldn’t help but feel as though electricity was coursing through his body for an instant. Briefly, he wondered if his palms were still too calloused from the agricultural work, but there was nothing he could do about it at the moment. Seeking emerald irises with his own, he barely refrained from brushing away a curtain of silvery strands that now reached a little further down his lover’s chest. “Sephiroth,” He muttered quietly. “I’m not resentful of the life you have here. Living like you’re used to and living with me doesn’t mean you have to give up one of us to have the other.” And if the sadness in those beautiful eyes was lifted slightly, the former Commander wasn’t sure. Smiling at the individual before him, he continued. “Though judging by what you said about not having time for courtship, I suggest you either _ elaborate _ taking things slowly or,” He moved a little further inside his former comrade’s personal space, before adding jokingly. “Look for someone else to _ woo _you.”

“I'm not talking about-” Sephiroth seemed to be struggling with himself. “_ That. _ I'm talking about taking the time to figure out what we can do, where we're comfortable with meeting a middle ground. Taking that slow so we don't rush into something either of us regret.” Green eyes focused on his lips before darting away. “We're both men of action, Genesis. We _ need _to work. Romance is fine, I don't have an issue with starting where we left off there. I haven't had sex in a year, I feel like I'm going to explode. But while romance is plenty good, having a life around it...a purpose... it's healthier, don't you think? And I'm not talking about Shinra for you, just...an occupation, or even a hobby.” A pale, large hand rose up to cup the back of the older man's head, long fingers threading through his hair. “I want to do this right.” was the firm statement. Emerald irises focused on his mouth again, and this time Genesis watched with a considerable amount of smugness as the younger man licked his lips-just the briefest flicker of the tongue, but quite enough-before regathering himself. “I don't want to mess this up.” 

The former Commander couldn’t help but feel _ want _ twist in his gut, pooling in an aching rush of arousal and he really couldn’t keep his hands off of Sephiroth anymore, especially with the way those burning beryl slits lingered on his mouth from underneath mile-long platinum lashes. “Agreed,” The redhead whispered in a low voice, his own eyelids dropping to half-mast as he gazed at those perfect luxurious lips that were so close and yet so out of reach. His right hand had risen of its own accord so his fingers could tangle in the silken waterfall of molten silver, and he carded them through it, luxuriated in the softness of the strands against his fingertips while they both seemed to draw closer for the width of a breath before lingering there, as if unsure. 

It had been _ so long… _ So long since he’d felt those hands in his hair after longing for them every single day… So long he’d been wishing for unmistakably unique silvery tresses which he was threading his fingers through… So when Genesis whispered “Maybe we should date for a while.” absentmindedly, he wasn’t really looking for an answer, and not caring if they did. Took the last step as his eyes fluttered closed, and brought their lips together in a soft languorous kiss; deep, because he _ needed _this like a man starved of air. The moan he fed his lover was throaty and wanton. When his other hand rushed to yank one side of Sephiroth’s coat off his shoulder, deft long fingers closed around his wrist, vice-like at first. So the older man shamelessly ground his hips against that of his partner’s, and returned the favor by tugging on the General’s thick mane. 

Their positions were reversed, the ledge of the countertop digging into his back, and he had to draw back and come up for a tremulous inhale, breathing raggedly and feeling very much aroused. “_ Tell me you brought lube. _ ” He pleaded somewhat, azure eyes glaring momentarily at the shirt Sephiroth was wearing like it had wronged him somehow in a manner he hoped it’d catch fire simply where it was hugging his lover’s physicality. His partner- _ his _partner-had the audacity to look incredulous. 

“You don't have any?!” 

It seemed like the green-eyed man wasn't going to wait for him to answer because he promptly mashed their lips back together and it was heated and rough and sloppy and _ good. _ As he did this, Sephiroth's hands retreated to shrug off his now-open trench coat, craning his neck slightly to maintain the kiss. The offending garment fell to the floor and was ignored and his lover slid a leg between Genesis’ and rutted upwards, grinding against him in what appeared to be a sort of mindless gesture before seeming to catch himself somewhat... drawing back slightly. The former Commander was having none of that, chased that wicked mouth, nipped at the vermilion of a lower lip until he was rewarded with a muted groan. The redhead flicked his tongue against that prurient pout until he was allowed access, 'till he could plunge inside and Sephiroth _ sucked... _drew him deep and it sent hot-cold shivers down his spine. Hands were tugging at his shirt and he made a frustrated noise, drew away so he could pull it off as his former comrade did the same. And then hands were sliding over his ass to grip his thighs and he yelped-was forced to cling to the younger man's neck-as he was lifted and set on the counter before being pulled into another bruising kiss. 

It occurred to him-dimly-that Sephiroth was rarely this forward and it was delightful.

A hand grasped his, pulled it downwards as the General found his pulse point and bit lightly. And when his fingers were splayed against the girth of the silver-haired man's erection his partner's breath was a hiss through his teeth. And Sephiroth was a glorious _ mess; _all flushed cheeks and glazed eyes when he drew back to look at him, he bit his lip in a manner he absolutely could not know was so sexy. Something crashed to the floor-salt shaker, the older man acknowledged-as their physicalities surged together again. 

“_ Seph… _ want your-” He was effectively shushed by another bruising lip lock, brief yet no less rough and fiery in a way that made the pool of pleasure in his groin catch fire. Genesis groaned, wrapped his legs tightly around a strong lean waist and pulled, their still clothed erections brushing for a moment. Sephiroth’s teeth caught on his swollen lips as the redhead threw his head back, nails of one hand digging in the nape of the younger man’s neck while with the other he attempted to brace himself on the counter in a mindless gesture. Heard something else crash to the floor, and when he cracked his eyelids open to watch his ferocious lover with hooded eyes that were on fire, saw the same green blaze gazing back at him with a hunger that made his blood sing in his veins. He had only a moment notice, before the General dived in, latched to his throat with a burning mouth as a strong calloused palm firmly brushed down his spine. Fingertips counting vertebra after vertebra, and the scarlet-haired ex-First was helpless but to arch his back, breath tremulous. “ _ G-gods… _” Lower, and lower still, and Sephiroth was palming his ass, squeezing firmly, before giving it an experimental tentative spank. 

Genesis almost came.

Almost.

Pressing his eyes shut as he felt his toes curl with the promise of euphoria and his muscles tense, the redhead bit his lower lip so hard he tasted copper on his tongue, and it made things even worse. The slither of precum down his dick was just too much…

“Sephiroth… Goddess…” The former Commander panted, “Y-you’re _ killing _ me…”

The world promptly turned upside down.

This was a nice way of saying that Sephiroth yanked him forward while pressing him back-keeping a careful hand at the base of his skull to protect his head-until his back was flat on the counter with his legs somewhat misplaced. And they were only misplaced for a few seconds because the General promptly yanked his pants off like he was peeling a piece of fruit and then those hands descended upon him like he was a feast. Sephiroth drew one of the redhead's legs up, pressed a kiss to the inside of his thigh before hiking the other one up and beginning a steady trail of nips inwards. Genesis jerked, made an incoherent noise and was almost furious that his lover had never done this before. And he could _ feel _the heat of trembling palms as they cupped his ass, as the General seemed to deliberate for a split second before getting down on his knees and spreading him somewhat before his tongue plunged into him and then his brain turned to jello. The former Commander froze as electricity shot through his veins, as the current of it snapped up his spine. And the younger man was holding him open with a thumb; tonguing him like he was determined to wring his orgasm out of him purely by enthusiasm alone. When the scarlet-haired man finally found his breath he wheezed something he wasn't entirely sure either of them would understand, Sephiroth moaned against him and the vibrations of his vocalization went straight to his dick. 

He was fairly sure he was leaking precome all over himself and it was so incredible he couldn't bring himself to care about it. The sapphire-eyed ex-soldier cared even less when long fingers trailed through it as he went through a mind blowing oral experience. Only, it wasn’t just that… it was much more… Dimly he wondered why Sephiroth hadn’t really tried this on him before, but that thought was quickly extinguished as his lover’s precum-slick fingers found his nipple and pinched, which was the start of a chain of action and reaction; Genesis arched, cried something off color that got him a groan, followed by a suck and another pinch, harder this time, and the former Commander couldn’t…wrapped his hand around his cock, but he didn’t know…wasn’t able to think clearly through the rapture roaring in his blood…

As if to reprimand him, the General chose exactly that moment to press the thumb that was holding him open inside. The redhead felt his eyes roll almost back as his free hand plunged in his own hair, tugging as he mumbled and moaned unintelligibly. His partner’s fingers that had been busy with his pebbled flesh, dug in the areola momentarily, and Genesis rewarded the man with a wavering vocalization of another off color word, before Sephiroth’s hand trailed down, a steady firm brush of calloused epidermis down his sternum as it smeared more precum against his tense abdomen, and the former Commander couldn’t help but feel the musculature quiver gently under his lover’s attention, before those digits swatted his useless hand away that was curled around his cock.

“_Please… Seph… Fuck..._” Apparently, his mind couldn’t work past the tide of sensation flooding it save for one word phrases. “_Fuck me…_” A firm stroke over his erection in time with the thumb that had just started moving against his entrance… And the scarlet-haired ex-soldier growled. “_Harder…_” Rolled his head against the granite surface. “_Senseless..._”

The thumb against him retreated and he almost complained about it before the offending hand made use of his precum and the thumb was replaced by middle and index finger; spiraling inwards in a slow circle before beginning a gradual but persistent ingress. Genesis rocked into the intrusion, pushed upwards against the hand circling cock and didn't know which was better. Sephiroth licked a wide stripe down his perineum and fire followed him...shivered into his veins and bubbled into his psyche. And it wasn't like lube but it was still slick and the slight drag and catch of it made him break out in goosebumps. The silver-haired man buried his face in the area where groin met thigh, mouthed over it before sucking and the sense of imminent release was almost alarming in its intensity. Those clever digits began a series of sharp thrusts and he felt flimsy and puerile with it. Again he moaned and the green-eyed man made a sound that was half groan and half growl and teeth nipped at him lightly before retreating again. A tongue on the underside of his erection, suckling the head when he was given access and he had to fight to keep his thighs from closing in from the sheer sensation of it.

Then, Sephiroth's fingers flexed-grew taut-crooked upwards and pushed none-too-gently against his prostate. 

Genesis’ body tensed, and he vaguely knew that there was no turning back from this one. His orgasm was rising in him steadily, and he really didn’t have a good sense of how his physicality was moving inside his lover’s palms; just that at the same time he was chasing the fingers hitting his prostate and the faint trace of a hot moist mouth hovering above his arousal. A litany of the first syllable of the General’s name fell from his lips, garbled and rising in volume and urgency, before his climax sprang free like a tightly wound coil at the base of his spine. With his eyes pressed shut, he rode the waves of ecstasy as ribbons of sticky warmth hit his chest and neck. Still unable to crack his eyes open, he felt his thighs tremble deliciously with strain before Sephiroth gently pushed his hips downwards against the warming surface of the countertop… and Genesis’ mouth stretched in the most unhinged yet satisfied smile he could muster… Lazily, he found his partner’s hand and raised it to his lips, brushing a kiss to every slick fingertip… before finally opening his eyes to gaze at the disheveled younger man with affectionate azure irises… 

“I want your cock in me, Seph.” He whispered, smirking minutely before slowly sucking a long index and middle finger in his mouth. The taste of his cum was almost bland on his tongue as he observed with hooded eyes how hunger flared in emerald pools that had been watching him with a quiet kind of covetous curiosity that never ceased leaving him breathless. 

While the man currently watching him did have negative traits, he wasn't rude when it came to things in the bedroom. And it was with a kind of quiet appreciation that he watched as Sephiroth let him cool down...as he stood and bent to kiss him lazily, tongues tangling as they refocused on the initial intricacies of things. Those long fingers remained within him but instead of focusing on his prostate, they began to prepare him. 

“You feel so good.” Sephiroth purred into his ear, clever digits flexing as he did so. And Genesis shuddered to hear the velvet huskiness of his vociferation. “You're going to be so tight.” 

At this point, Sephiroth was just _ cheating. _

Even as his softened erection began to show interest again, the older man reflected that never-_ ever- _ in his memory had his partner been prone to dirty talk. And it was rare for him to feel even the slightest bit outclassed in the sex department, but he'd forgotten how quickly the General could go from hot to cold...or in this case, the other way around. His former comrade's unoccupied hand was trailing feather-light touches over his burgeoning arousal... really only the ghost of what could be hinted at in terms of touch. When he was halfway to full sail the silver-haired man swiped over his prostate and the moan that fell from the blue-eyed ex-soldier's lips was a lilting, somewhat debauched thing. And fuck, he was _ ready, _and Genesis displayed his readiness with a garbled plea only to feel those teasing lips stretch into a smile next to his earlobe.

“You want me?” was the smug query. 

And he could very much answer his smugness with a line of Wutain only to watch the younger man turn into a puddle of desire, but they could do that another time. Instead, he snaked a hand upwards between them, tilting his head as he held onto the chiseled angular jaw while he gave his partner a steady burning look from underneath auburn lashes. Sephiroth was following his eyes with an amused self-satisfied expression that didn’t back down, that never backed down… And really how much he had missed this between them… A mischievous smile tugged on his lips as he drew that gorgeous face ever closer to him…felt the General’s hot, full exhalations over his moist mouth and knew that the silver-haired individual was itching to fuck him…and Genesis was itching even more to be fucked so thoroughly he couldn’t remember his own name by the end of it, but…he couldn’t resist giving in to the wicked game his lover had started. His eyelids nearly fluttered close as the distance between their mouths extinguished so he could bite a lower lip gently and pull on it, gazing heatedly with hooded eyes as his partner chased him into yet another sloppy kiss that was more entanglement of breath, tongues, and bites with sharp teeth… And it was _ heady _… intoxicating… 

The sudden lapse in their rigorous haste for release…like a calmer section of a roaring torrent… And a part of his mind was wondering how his companion was managing it taking it into account his claim about being about to explode, but he couldn’t focus on that at the moment… Could only give in to the sensation of it all… to the warmth within and without… Relish it, and twist it into a bright fiery stroke of a brush against the canvas of his memories… 

“_ Yes…. _ ” The former Commander uttered quietly, seductively, lips barely brushing against lush perfect ones as he undulated with the rhythm Sephiroth’s fingers had set… Slow, languid and he rolled his hips, let a brief flash of unadulterated pleasure twist his features as he made an even more unruly mess of his hair against the countertop. Breath rushing hot and tremulous over his lips as he whispered “ _ I want you… all of you… _ ” before gazing at his lover sternly, heatedly. His fingernails dug slightly in the hard line of his companion’s jaw as he countered disobediently, huskily. “ _ Fuck me _ hard.” 

It was-apparently-the right thing to say. 

Those green irises were nearly overtaken with black as Sephiroth paused and observed him in a purely predatory way...almost as if considering. Realistically, Genesis knew he’d already won because the fingers buried in his ass retreated, hiked up one of his thighs as the silver-haired General pressed forward. And the younger man teased him with it, let the head of his cock brush against him until he was arching for it-just slightly, not wanting to appear over eager and ultimately failing at it-before retreating once more. It seemed-however-that his companion’s patience for gradual debauchery was coming to an end. Before long, the redhead’s lover was lining himself up fully; pushing forward until the broad influx of that beautiful cock was giving Genesis a divine sense of fullness and satisfaction. The green-eyed man had been thorough, but not enough that he didn’t wince slightly with the drag of it...didn’t resent that delicious ache combined with bone numbing pleasure. Because he wanted his muscles to _ hate _himself in the morning, wanted them to scream with the reminder of what had occurred.

There was a longer stretch of time during which Sephiroth was fully seated. And the older man knew-prayed to every deity he was personally aware of-that he could refrain from coming again until the silver-haired man reached the pinnacle of pleasure. But it was hard to deny himself when the General spread himself flat; leaned over the counter ‘till their bodies were flush together. The undulation of those powerful hips ground against his prostate and Genesis’ lips parted in a silent gasp only for Sephiroth’s to close over his, an adroit tongue rolling along his before plundering his mouth, slowly, deeply passionate that made his back arch if it weren’t for the welcome weight of his lover’s physicality pressing him down. Nimble fingers tangled in his hair and cradled the back of his head in the same caring manner from earlier as his former comrade continued robbing him of breath. Only when the redhead moaned, the vociferation turning into a low whine did the younger man let go of him, leaving the scarlet-haired ex-soldier panting, all ragged breathing and totally ravished. Observing the individual on top of him with heavy eyelids, watching how the black slits of Sephiroth’s pupils had dilated with arousal, how he seemed awfully satisfied with the way he’d reduced Genesis to a desirous mess yet again made him surge upwards to capture those haughty lips with his own only for a strong calloused palm to press him flat against the counter, gentle yet domineering.

And Goddess… he wanted to be dominated… wanted to lose every ounce of self-control he had. 

His partner let go off his thigh and the former Commander hooked his arm around it to keep it where it was because the angle Sephiroth was going at felt just _ amazing _… and even if his thrusts were languid for the time being, Genesis couldn’t bring himself to complain. Not for long, however, because promptly the General gripped his hips and dragged him slightly off over the edge, supporting his lower back with a palm spread across his lumbar triangle. Hooking his legs around the younger man’s back to maintain their precarious balance somewhat, auburn brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of what his companion was doing but abruptly his brain short-circuited as Sephiroth withdrew almost all the way out, and proceeded to tease him until he was writhing with unabashed ecstasy… cursing under his breath every time his entrance tried accommodating the teasing egress of an engorged head only to have it push inside again and into his prostate… 

“_ God _ -...” The silver-haired man didn’t let him continue, slammed into him until he was buried inside to the hilt, drew back, and thrust deep again...building up a rhythm, and soon the fingers clutching his hips were tightening, fierce enough to leave bruises. The thought made him groan loudly, and in a moment of surprising clarity he managed to utter in between puffs of breath. “Staking...claims... with bruisin’…me, huh?” A breathless lascivious smile. “ _ Y-yours. _”

For a moment, those green eyes met his and in them was something more than passion. There was a sense of recognition, of acknowledgement...of space bridged and tentative acceptance. Familiar aquiline features grew somewhat lax but no less observant. In a brief timespan of tenderness, Sephiroth bowed his head...tapered until his thrusts were no less deep but were somehow more powerful in their slowness. And the look glittering in beryl irises was that of a deep vulnerability mixed with deep love. Fragile, shivering and naked in the way that the General could only be in moments like this and Genesis wanted to whisper _ ‘There he is’... _because he was there. Despite everything that had gone on, despite the distance between them...Sephiroth was still there. And maybe he was a little bit different; a little older, a little more level-headed, and little less prone to impulse...but so was he. And the redhead shivered for the lips that pressed against the shell of his ear, for the breath that ghosted over the lobe as his partner spoke.

“...Yours.” 

“_ Ashayam… _” He whispered reverently, without hesitation, the word escaping him like a sacrament as he blinked slowly and gazed deep into the viridescent pools he could drown into and yet breathe.

From that point onwards, the world faded until only Sephiroth remained. Forever beautiful, forever beloved. The moment they had shivered in its luminescence inside Genesis’ heart, like the first snowflake of the winter, shimmering like a diamond and priceless in ways beyond explanation, beyond comprehension; incomparable and individually unique. 

A myriad of sensations and emotions like a spiralling canopy of countless fine fabrics...translucent and yet colorful… It was hard to concentrate on the ethereal vision he had in his mind, senseless and drowned in sensation as he was; focusing on points of contact even though he wasn’t sure where he ended and Sephiroth began…wasn’t sure if he was thrusting against his lover’s strong virile physicality or the _ slap-slap _ of their hips was solely the General’s doing… His existence was summed up in the feelings and reactions the younger man wrought in him, nerves alight with the fire that was engulfing them both… His lips burnt where he’d kept the tips of Sephiroth’s elegant digits brushing against his mouth… His eyes never leaving those intense emerald gems that were as focused on him as on the culmination of their dance… And that’s what it was; an azure-emerald ocean lapping at a shore…burning red fire intertwined with the clearest of waters… A tornado meeting a volcano…and what if others thought they were destructive and powerful in their coupling… 

Breathless they stumbled, time, too, losing its meaning until Genesis was rewarded. Euphoria...painted in furrowed platinum brows, and emerald eyes pressed shut...the gorgeous part of a luxurious cerise mouth… A deep voice, velvet like the black star-studded welkin, a quiet rush of breath and the redhead was a thief; rising up and snatching it away, before he too was washed away in a sea of gold and platinum… Release…trembling…high…

“_ Stay… _”

Dark.

And then they descended…in a tangle of limbs on the couch, sated and tired. Ivory fingers tangled in auburn tresses...drawing mindless soothing patterns that slowly went lax… The steadying _ thump-thump _of Sephiroth’s heartbeat underneath epidermis, inside a cage of sinew and bone where Genesis was pressing his ear to his lover’s chest. Slumber found him with a pleased smile… 

Halfway into the night, it was him who woke up; roused his lover with tantalizing touches. All warmth and smoldering passion, titillating kisses…making love in the dark, and shivering with it…insatiable, and yet oddly content.

Light.

He stirred, cognizant only for a brief moment to see his lover getting up, smiled sleepily at how the sunlight pouring in through the windows danced over a waterfall of silvery tresses before he fell back into a light drowse. Snippets of auditory knowledge...the sound of shower running...the blow dryer later, though how long it took, the redhead didn’t know… When he finally cracked his eyes open, it was to the soft clinks of metal as Sephiroth was buckling up his boots.

Genesis smiled, even though the General wasn’t watching, sharp azure eyes softened with sleep and a deep well of affection, crinkled around the corners as he watched those nimble fingers make quick work of the dressing ritual he’d witnessed numerous times. Then his lover moved to retrieve his shirt and jacket.

“Can I have your shirt?” Voice slightly rough with sleep, the former Commander queried.

Sephiroth paused, the aforementioned item dangling from thumb and forefinger. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to question the older man’s query, but he didn’t. Instead, he gave Genesis a fond-if a little bit exasperated-look and tossed him the offending piece of clothing. The redhead caught it with a grin, raising a scarlet brow as his lover’s eyes scanned the immediate area as if searching for something. 

“I’ll need one of yours in return.” was the dry reply. The ex-soldier supposed he must have looked shocked because the General looked somewhat sheepish, holding up his trench coat and indicating the chest area. “I removed the straps months ago, they were cumbersome, and I don’t fancy the idea of hailing a cab with half my upper torso exposed.”

Privately, Genesis thought that Sephiroth might just cause a pileup if he did that, because every taxi driver in the immediate proximity would rush to his ‘aid.’ As it was, considering his partner’s newfound propriety, he decided he was at least going to have a little fun with it. Sitting up and scrubbing his hands through his hair, the older man allowed himself a yawn before flopping over to pull open a drawer, fishing around for what he had in mind before throwing it to his companion. Green eyes widened in horror at the sight of it, and the blue-eyed ex-First had to work hard to hide a grin. Costa del Sol prints weren’t his thing; mostly because they were poorly cut and colored with hideous solid shades and stamped with flowers. But someone had dropped it into his guitar case while he was playing and he’d taken it home and promptly forgot about it until now. 

“Don’t you think,” Sephiroth said delicately, picking the offending item up. “It’s a bit too..._ festive?” _

The auburn-haired man stood up slowly, the soreness in his muscles shivering deliciously down his spine as the memories of their previous night flashed in his mind; a jolt of electricity coursed through his veins while he made a detour to kiss the green-eyed General chastely on the lips, delighted in the brief brush of warm strong palms over his sides as he whispered a ‘Good morning, love.’ before making his way to the bedroom to look for something that didn’t clash so terribly with a skin-tight leather jacket. Coming back with a white t-shirt-though black would have been better, but the ones he owned were more baggy-he threw it at the younger man before settling on the sofa. Reclining and stretching like a feline as he raised an eyebrow, Genesis wanted to comment, had to promptly stifle yet another yawn before finally finding his voice.

“Works for you?”

“Yes.” Sephiroth said with a vehement sort of passion, pulling the shirt over his head with a relieved intensity. Striding over to kiss him, the green-eyed First pulled back after a moment and smiled. “And good morning.” The scarlet-haired former Commander had opened his mouth to reply when there was a shrill ringing sound and the silver-haired man yanked his coat on, fumbled with something in his pocket, drawing out a slim black phone. Checking the ID, he sent Genesis an apologetic look before answering. “Hello?” The older man could barely hear the voice on the other end of the line, but it was unmistakably Angeal, and he sounded mother-hennish. “It was last minute.” His lover said, his tone placid. A pause and more chattering. “No. Nothing like that, and I have to get back now or Reeve will dig us a hole we don't need.” Another rushed, intelligible reply and Sephiroth wrinkled his nose. “Don't do that. Please. I'll get something in the cafeteria after the conference. Alright, I'll talk to him. Thanks.”

The younger man hung up and stared at the cellular device in his hand for a moment as if contemplating it before turning to Genesis. 

“I don't...know if this.... But realistically, Angeal isn't-” Something in the redhead's expression must have made him pause for a moment before he plowed onwards. “He... doesn't have a lot of time left. And it's...harder for him to get out these days. I know he'd like to see you.” 

The redhead contemplated those words, didn’t let the younger man’s comment about his childhood friend’s lack of longevity get to him...as severe and important as it was, in favor of trying to come up with something that could maybe mend their friendship, and make up for the time they, too, had lost. There was an easy answer to their problem, and a harder one. Which one was which though, the former Commander wasn’t sure, but he could either come out and announce that he was indeed alive and risk being shackled to duty, or being hounded by the press at all times. Or, Sephiroth could get him a limited access pass to visit the HQ. This option posed two other problems, though. Firstly, the minute the Turks looked into his forged documents, they’d see right through it. Second, they’d need to state his intent for visiting, and he only wanted access to the Residential levels…and of all people, he was going to visit Angeal only. That alone was enough to blow their cover.

There was also a third option. And while he was fairly sure the younger man knew all of this-brilliant as he was-and was probably only asking for his consent, Genesis couldn’t help voicing his thoughts.

“I think being straightforward about it is the best option. I don’t want to play cat and mouse to fool Administration. Can you tell Reeve and ask him not to go public with the whole thing and stop the Turks from prying?” Sephiroth seemed to be mulling over his words as the scarlet-haired ex-soldier continued. “I still need a limited access pass under my fake ID, and I’m _ not _ wearing wigs or anything. I can come later at night if Angeal’s awake so I wouldn’t run into a horde of personnel.” Looking at his lover, he waited for his input.

Sephiroth was nodding slowly.

“I think that would work, and Reeve would respect your decision along with the Turks.” He hesitated. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think Administration is going to try to force you into anything. When they asked me to reinstate, they ultimately put themselves in a position where I could remove members by recommending replacements to Reeve, and the individuals that weren’t working with the company aren’t there to...impose undesirable outcomes. So don’t worry about it.” He tilted his head. “The majority of HQ is open to the public, passes are somewhat a thing of the past. Three months ago Angeal decided it might help dispel the aura of deception of mystery if we started letting people in and giving tours.” A grimace. “It’s not always..._ pleasant... _to have civilians wandering around but it’s certainly...different. Regardless, considering who you are, I doubt you’d need one even if the move hadn’t gone through.” Glancing at the clock, the General winced. “I have to go now though, regardless. I’ll speak to Reeve.” A smile was sent Genesis’ way. “Call me anytime, if you like.” 

The redhead mirrored the expression, the surprise at hearing how so many things had changed around the headquarters and how the company was run was pushed to the side for the moment as he offered. “Tell them in advance or let me surprise them, whichever works best in your opinion.” Watching a brief curt nod as his lover’s long strides quickly carried him to the door, he couldn’t help the vocable that ran up the back of his throat to jump over his tongue and escape him in an urgent yet somehow supplicative word. “Sephiroth.”

With one hand on the doorknob, the silver-haired First half turned to face him, answering him with a “Yes?” as his beautiful green eyes refocused from the ex-soldier’s visage to the hand Genesis had stretched out toward him.

Lingering there at the door, it seemed that both of them had frozen for a moment, before, to his astonishment and amazement, the General retraced his steps, a long-suffering look swirling in emerald pools that made the former Commander’s breath catch in his throat. As he levered himself on his elbow, a waterfall of silky silver tresses cascaded around their faces. Raising his fingers slowly to touch the side of that handsome visage in a feather-light caress, Genesis breathed “I love you...” before his digits curled reverently at the nape of Sephiroth’s neck, his eyes fluttering shut as their lips brushed, soft and chaste and ephemeral, yet no less precious.

“...Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations**: 
> 
> **[1]**_ ご無沙汰です, セフィロス_-It’s been a long time, Sephiroth. Though it accompanies feelings like “I am sorry that I haven’t visited you/haven’t written to you so long.”.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Such serious, very ridiculousness. Or rather, the other way around. In other words, we take a tiny break in this chapter (courtesy of one mako-infused Soldier, and a not-so-infused ex-Soldier) from all the seriousness that's been going on so far and is going to happen in the chapters to come... Or do we?

Death and darkness, in his case, went hand in hand.

Sitting on an armchair in Angeal’s apartment, Vincent couldn’t help but think that ultimately, his death had taught him very little. His most prominent memories were that of weightless darkness...if they could even be called memories at all. He barely remembered losing consciousness in the first place...could barely recall the moments leading up to Chaos's flight. He only remembered Angeal...afraid and calling for him, holding him like he was his single lifeline in a world that is was perpetually frightening and changeable. When he stopped to think about it-something he tried to avoid-he was angry. Because he'd been robbed of six months with his dying partner...that was six months he would never get back. He had vowed to be there for the younger man, put his word into it and then done the exact opposite. And the individual in question insisted he wasn't guilty...but he  _ felt  _ guilty... crushingly guilty. And when he did wake he disliked his initial lack of physical and vocal control, was ashamed of his weakness and his ineptitude. 

Seeing Angeal for the first time was the most difficult part.

Upon waking, he'd barely recognized the individual before him as the person he'd fell in love with. Internally, he was the same loving, sensitive, and all-too-forgiving person he so admired and cherished. Externally, he was a veritable stranger with his partner’s eyes. If he’d been able to talk, he was fairly sure he would have cried...so maybe it was better that he hadn’t been able to. And to hear the dark-haired First speak to him with such kindness...with tears welling in his eyes...like they’d never been apart.... He was a little ashamed of the facet of him that was relieved that Angeal hadn’t moved on. At the same time, he was equally aware of the fact that the former Commander would never have done that,  _ could  _ never had done that. His lover’s affection was solidified in the fact that Vincent gave him something that he hadn’t been able to find in others. There were times that had worried him before, and it definitely worried him now because he didn’t know what the Jenova cells had done to him. Adversely, he was equally aware of the truth that Angeal might not live long enough to find out.

It took them some time to rebuild, because both of them were a little bit altered but no less in love. There was a middle ground they had to find between his death and Angeal’s degradation that was still sometimes hard to stand on together. Because he was so desperately afraid of being alone, of his lover leaving him behind to go somewhere distant that he didn’t understand. And of course the former Commander was patient...of course he was tender and loving on nights when the terror left him shaking and weightless, and he couldn’t breathe let alone think. He wanted to be the strong one, and there were times when he was, but Vincent also learned to accept that he didn’t always  _ have  _ to be strong...that he could reach for Angeal when he needed to be comforted without taking something vital from him. And when the younger man’s lips found his...when despite everything they found balance...he could almost,  _ almost  _ tell himself that he would survive it. 

Sephiroth’s trials were equally hard to bear. 

It was hard to listen to him talk for so many days...hard to listen to  _ them  _ talk...but harder to listen to his son. Because Sephiroth was clearly lost and broken and very, very angry. For hours he’d talk to him, sometimes quietly, sometimes raging until he broke something and then sank to the floor next to his bed and shook with silent sobs. And Vincent wanted to reach out to him, wanted to touch him and reassure him. A few times, Angeal would walk in while this was happening and he had never, ever been prouder of two people for persevering, for treating each other with deference and kindness despite their past differences. Because Angeal would comfort Sephiroth even if the younger man pushed him away, even if he spat vitriol- _ painful- _ vitriol in his face in an attempt to alienate him. And he wondered how it was possible for two people who were so dynamically different to be so determined to survive...and it was that singular fact...that strong sense of admiration that kept him going. 

Initially-after waking up-he felt useless and somewhat bitter. Watching as his son learned to deal with what was around him made it easier. And his heart broke for the fact that his child had to lose so much in order to gain such insight, in order to garner such strength and determination. Because even though most might have a jaded viewpoint, Sephiroth was a magnificent General. And it was more than the fact that he was bred for it. When he wasn’t crushed by limitless sorrow or inundated with madness the silver-haired man was tactical and professional, but he was also humanistic and fair. It was obvious that it had taken Administration and Soldier alike a long time to warm up to him, but his men adored him and Reeve could barely function without him. Angeal was quieter about his pride in his comrade, but it burst out of him at random times. A few days after he was cleared to return to work, he’d attended a conference meeting during which a member of the Board tried quite unsubtly to transfer funds from a poverty-stricken area of the slums to a part of the Upper Plate that was lavishly rich. The General in interim had dealt with the offense so swiftly and so masterfully he’d been left breathless, and while the rest of Administration was catching their breath Angeal had leant over and whispered  _ “Did you see that?”  _ in such a fond and smug tone Vincent wanted to kiss him on the spot. 

Evolution was a strange thing. 

Strange but universal because they had all gone through it at some point. Death had taught Vincent the power of permanence; the reality that _nothing _was permanent and that things could always change. It had also taught him to be more forgiving, and he’d woken up wanting to apologize to Genesis only to find that he was dead. The amount of sadness that had come with the acknowledgement was surprising, because they had never gotten along. And he had never _disliked _the redhead per say, but he had disliked his attitude towards Angeal and his overall unpredictable demeanor. That being said, he’d appreciated his honesty, because that at the very least he could count on...whether he liked it or not. The younger man was always going to say what he thought and damn the consequences. Grudgingly, he was forced to admit he envied him his ability to be emotional just a little bit...but he also acknowledged that it was a facet of his personality. And despite his negative proclivities it was clear he loved Sephiroth, and he couldn’t hate someone who was so clearly devoted to someone that _he _loved. In time, he thought he could have learned to love Genesis just as much; _had _loved him to a certain extent just for choosing his son...so his death was a painful thing, a physical thing.

HQ was different.

Seeing how such difference had come to light in such a short time was sobering. Because it was a testament to how hard everyone around them was working, how much that all of them wanted change. It was obvious that everyone had worked extremely hard to find a solution for something that had no easy answers, and getting the public to work with them was-if possible-harder. Sometimes he wished it hadn’t taken so much death for them to get where they were now, but the price to peace was often ridiculously high...and this time was no different. And it was a tedious thing...to rebuild a government that was based on military power to something fair and populace oriented. Realistically, it would take years to solidify things, but they were making steady progress and that was really all anyone could ask for. Normally, he might have jumped right into the work he had done before and travelled from place to place gathering information, but Angeal’s severely degraded state left him frightened to leave. Really, he spent so much time hovering around the younger man he was sincerely surprised he hadn’t been tied up in a broom closet so the blue-eyed First could go about his day. 

Then-of course-you had Sephiroth, who veritably lived with them unless he felt like they were getting too romantic. That was surprising at first, the concept of the silver-haired man being so velcro-ish. It wasn’t unpleasant, merely pleasantly social, though it did make him ferociously paternal to the point that the General had to snap at him several times for being overbearing. He couldn’t really help it when he felt like he was sending his son off to school in the morning rather than to his office. Angeal really wasn’t any better and it was very clear that while he enjoyed their company, Sephiroth was feeling hen-pecked to the point of insanity. He was-pointedly-told that if he brought the younger man his lunch one more time he was going to weld his office door shut. Vincent was fairly sure he had enough strength in his quads to easily rectify such a threat, but he controlled himself regardless. 

That didn’t mean that Sephiroth was entirely well.

Angeal had pointed it out...and he’d been reluctant to acknowledge it, but there was the glaring truth that Sephiroth was never going to be like anyone else. You couldn’t place an infant in a world deprived of affection and kindness, let them grow up in torture and pain and expect them to be mentally healthy no matter how much you cared for them afterwards. Sephiroth was always going to carry the darkness of his childhood with him no matter what they did-no matter what anyone did-and if he stopped to think about it , it was enough to make him want to fall apart. Because those brilliant green eyes were always going to hold the shadows of Hojo’s cruelties...were always going to be somewhat haunted and unhappy because somewhere within them was a little boy who’d been ripped into pieces and molded into something obedient and entirely numb to the realities of the world. The events of his defection...his death...his slaughter in Junon...that was only scraping the surface of the reality of the General in interim’s existence. Vincent had entertained the idea of proposing therapy, but he knew it would be rejected...and it might alienate him. So he’d accepted the well of hopeless hunger hiding behind viridian irises and loved his son regardless…

...Because in a way, it was his fault that that voracious void was there.

He didn’t know how to feel about losing Chaos. 

There was a sense of absence within him that was hard to dismiss at times, because the demon had been there so long, and he’d never really gone without. The first time he’d gotten angry without him he was filled with a sense of bottomless panic because there was no answering inferno within him. It was irrational, because said inferno was the reason people died, but now he was free to get _‘as furious as he wanted’-_as Angeal put it-without fear of consequences he couldn’t control. And he’d never thought that he’d find himself feeling _sorry _for his unwanted guest...but he did. Whenever Chaos the cat clawed its way up his leg, he felt a sort of twinging pain in his heart that compared the feline to the metaphysical creature that was no longer there...because both were so enslaved to their instincts...so focused on their purposes that there was nothing that could have altered their course. And he _wanted _to be able to say that there was no other choice, that nothing anyone could have done would have changed things...but he really didn’t know. 

There was a knock on the apartment door and Vincent startled somewhat, the newspaper in his lap falling to the floor as he sat up and stared at the entryway. There was a shuffling sound from the bedroom, and he watched as Angeal appeared looking somewhat more rested than he had that morning. Somewhat relieved that his impromptu nap seemed to have done him some good, the older man rose to answer whoever was calling, letting his hand brush over his lover’s shoulders as he passed; earning himself a smile in return. He eyed his bandana, which was resting on the coffee table, but ultimately decided against it. It was the weekend, and he wasn’t going to the trouble of putting his hair up when their unexpected guest had obviously decided to check for them in Residential. Pulling the door open, he was drawn up short...because it was Sephiroth...but it was also someone else. 

And there was no mistaking that hair.

Staring into sapphire eyes and an unreadable expression, Vincent acknowledged that he didn’t know how to react. Apprehension was the initial feeling, a sense of terrible worry because now things were going to change again and everyone was prone to fearing change on such a great scale. His gaze flicked to Sephiroth, who was looking at him somewhat pleadingly, and he softened somewhat. Behind him, he could hear Angeal’s intake of breath, could almost  _ feel  _ his disbelief. And so, because he didn’t know what to do and because he didn’t have anything clever to say, the gunslinger stepped back and nodded at his son, pulled the door wide and gestured for them to enter, clearing his throat as he did so. 

“Good morning.” 

“Genesis?” Angeal queried in the middle of the living room, and when the redhead who had followed Sephiroth inside didn’t deny the name, but offered a somewhat unanimous smile, the grey-haired First drew the ex-soldier in for a bone-crushing bear hug.

“Ang-...”

“-You idiot.” His lover’s voice was breaking with the joy that was rolling down his cheeks. “What happened? Where were you? Why-...”

“‘Geal,” Genesis wheezed, “Need to breathe here.”

The General promptly let go, and Vincent could feel rather than see as Sephiroth came to a stand beside him, leather clad arms crossed over his chest in his peripheral vision as they both stood by to watch the two Banorans’ reunion.

Angeal was holding the scarlet-haired ex-First by his shoulders, blue-grey eyes running up and down the redhead’s frame who was wearing a dark baggy sweater, matching cargo pants and a pair of black-rimmed glasses. “Look at you! Who could’ve guessed!” His partner turned his head for a moment to look at the General in interim as he asked. “How-Where did you find him?”

Before his son could answer however, there was a tiny meowling sound, Chaos pacing toward the stranger in the room. The kitten was rather apprehensive and belligerent toward others, however, much to everyone’s surprise, he started rubbing himself around Genesis’ shins, purring and trying to get the former Commander’s attention. Said man’s arched eyebrow disappeared in his hairline before a bemused glance was shot toward Vincent. As his son’s partner bent down to pet the feline-who seemed to be enjoying himself and utterly infatuated with the redhead-Sephiroth spoke.

“In the park, when I thought I’d seen him...I did.” Vincent frowned and glanced at Angeal, who was looking a bit guiltily back at him. They’d made a point to dissuade Sephiroth, not because they didn’t  _ want  _ it to be Genesis, but because they’d known how hard it would be when it wasn’t. And-obviously-they’d been wrong, but they’d been trying to spare him the pain. “He left me his phone number with the receptionist a month ago and it took me a while to really get around to calling it. Apparently, he thought I was dead.” A shrug and a slight curve of the lips. “So here we are.” 

He didn’t know how to feel about  _ that  _ either.

Because what about Angeal? Wasn’t he important? Opening his mouth to voice his indignance, the older man decided against it. Maybe some other time, when things weren’t so fresh. And he didn’t want to ruin this for either Sephiroth or Angeal...but the bitterness that stirred in his gut was hard to push down. As it was, he settled with shooting Chaos a mildly betrayed glance before heading for the kitchen, muttering something about drinks as he went. When he was there and beyond the sight of the others, he braced his hands against the counter and looked down. This...this would change things. And he didn’t know  _ how  _ it would change things, it would just change things and he didn’t know if it was for better or for worse. He liked Genesis,  _ liked  _ him, but there was no denying that his relationship with Sephiroth had a history of being volatile. That was-of course-only when things weren’t going well with the world, but neither of them were good at coping with negativity together. Pushing such morbid thoughts from his head, Vincent settled with pulling four glass tumblers down from one of the cabinets...setting them on the counter and opening the fridge to pull out several bottles of ale he’d gotten as a  _ ‘Good to have you alive again’  _ present from Veld and busied himself with filling each glass. 

“...D-Vincent?” 

His hand slipped, just like it always did when Sephiroth accidently nearly called him his father. It was becoming a more common occurrence. There were quiet murmurs from the living room indicating that Angeal was still talking, and he finished his respective task before turning to Sephiroth, who looked a little bit apprehensive and just a little strained. Taking a deep breath, the ebon-haired gunslinger opened his mouth.

“Are you alright?” 

Thankfully, his progeny didn’t rise to the comment, didn’t bristle or get irritated. Instead, he took two of the tumblers while his sire took the other. They didn’t have time to loiter around in the shadows, but this was something Vincent needed to hear.

“I...think so.” Sephiroth said slowly.

Vincent understood. He understood, and he didn’t, but he nudged the silver-haired man’s shoulder as he passed at that was enough. Neither of them were particularly articulate when it came to their feelings. The General tilted his head towards him just slightly in acknowledgement to the gesture-which was about as affectionate as it usually got-and they made their way back into the living room together. Both of the men they had left behind looked at the pair of them curiously but didn’t comment on their sudden egress. The green-eyed First handed his extra glass to Angeal, who took the opportunity to toast him without the younger man really participating. Sephiroth chuckled and then went back to standing next to Genesis while the former Turk offered the redhead a tumbler. 

“It’s morning,” He said in a tone that he hoped was apologetic. “But I think the occasion calls for it.” 

Cerulean irises observed him in a manner that was somewhat unnerving, but something about them was different. They softened slightly like Angeal’s did when he smiled, just like Genesis’ were at the moment as he took the proffered glass and clinked it gently against the others’. 

The redhead was about to open his mouth when the grey-haired First beat him to it. “To Genesis, who tells me he’s been working on paddy fields in Mideel for  _ a whole year. _ ” There was a kind-hearted laugh running along his partner’s words, his aquiline features filled to the brim with a different kind of happiness at having his childhood friend back from the dead; and not at all caring about how the aforementioned man could have been there in Shinra with them. Another pang of bitterness, but the ex-Turk pushed it aside quickly in favor of a dampened surprise at the knowledge that his son’s lover had been farming, which he could have never guessed.

Watching the blue-eyed individual in front of him over the rim of his glass, a corner of his lips twitched in a small smile at how the redhead grimaced at his drink, though said nothing. It wasn’t an ill expression, but more something born from the memory of what Angeal had said a long time ago about Genesis not settling for anything less than a five-digit gil chardonnay. Having drunk his tumbler down, the grey-haired General gestured for them to sit down, drawing away from their circle ahead of the three of them to sit in the armchair Vincent had occupied minutes ago. Chaos who seemed to have had enough petting by his new-found love of his feline life pounced on his partner’s lap before digging his tiny claws in and observing all of them from his perch. 

“It’s good to see you alive, Vincent.” The former Commander spoke quietly, which made the gunslinger turn his head to look back at him as the redhead was placing a hand on the small of Sephiroth’s back. “And thank you.”

Furrowing his brow, the crimson-eyed man couldn’t stop the foreboding feeling that had slithered and coiled inside his gut the minute the auburn-haired man had walked back in their home and subsequently their lives. Maybe his misgivings were misplaced and unfounded, but he couldn’t help but feel protective of the equilibrium that was slowly becoming of their situation. It seemed almost delicate and vulnerable in the face of the individual with sharp blue eyes and hair the color of fire. Genesis was volatile, and while both Sephiroth and Angeal seemed okay with his return, Vincent couldn’t help but feel wary. And ‘thank you’? Everything about this situation screamed weird to him, but maybe that was his intuition from his old days at the Turks.

More than that, there was a part of him that was concerned that Sephiroth might choose to leave. 

His concerns were less based on his misgivings, about the individual than they were based on the fact that his son might feel the need to uproot his life to keep his partner happy. Even now, the fact that he hadn't  _ told  _ them right away worried him. It wasn't a secret that Genesis had no love for Shinra, no love for what they'd been trying to do for the public, and no love for trying to change something that had caused them so much pain. This was understandable. What was worrisome was the singular truth that Sephiroth  _ did  _ care about such things now, and that their differences in focus could cause the younger man to alter his own because he didn't want to lose someone he loved. He knew what choosing love over duty could do...what kind of unhappiness that could cause. Sephiroth shouldn't-as far as he was concerned-have to choose between love and a career that made him genuinely happy...one that was fulfilling. A year was plenty of time to put down roots, and now there was the possibility he might rip them out of the ground. 

He was also afraid of being alone.

Something must have shown on his face, because Sephiroth shot him a reassuring look that was never the less ignorant of his mental upheaval. Angeal was dying, and there was the singular truth that someday he was going to wake up alone. Recently... he'd somewhat made peace with that fact. Not just because it was something Angeal wanted, but because he'd been reassured by the fact that at least he would have someone he could talk to; someone whose life he could watch unfold even if one of his main reasons for living was gone. And it was selfish, but he was equally as human as anyone else, and he wasn't going to unhealthily shove his feelings down. Regardless, he just couldn't be entirely benevolent towards someone who had disregarded Angeal. It was what he kept coming back to, and no matter how he looked at it ..he couldn't excuse it. He was absolutely not going to say anything of the sort out loud, however, so he settled with a nod before stepping away. He wasn't going to let his feelings about things take precedence over the younger man's happiness. And he wasn't going to play the overprotective parent to a degree that it alienated him. Turning his back so his emotions weren't evident, he kept his voice pleasant. 

“Thank you, and I can say the same.” He said smoothly, striding to a chair and sitting down.

Sephiroth and Genesis too, came to sit on the couch in front of them, both putting their tumblers down on the coffee table, the redhead’s half empty while his son’s was untouched. Before the silence could stretch and yawn in the room, it was Angeal who spoke up. 

“It’s good to have you back. I think the people-...”

“-Here’s the thing, I’m not. I came here using the maintenance entry. Sephiroth’s talked with the Turks and Reeve. I’m not staying at the headquarters.” The redhead interjected, and his grey-haired best friend was furrowing his brow in an attempt to try and ascertain that the individual the General in interim had brought inside their home was actually his childhood friend. 

“Well, what are you going to do? Where are you going to stay? It’s been what…” Angeal looked at the crimson-eyed man, obviously struggling to come up with a definitive date. “A  _ month? _ since Sephiroth saw you in the park. Let us provide for you at least, unti-...”

There was exasperated huff and the redhead was rolling his eyes and muttering somewhat under his breath. “Stop motherhenning Angeal. I’m not an invalid.” The former Commander uttered, leaning back in his seat, before reaching between him and the silver-haired First to intertwine their fingers. Vincent’s eyebrow twitched just slightly upwards, before he schooled his features into neutrality as Genesis continued. “I sold Rapier, I’ve got a flat in the  _ robots  _ sector and I’m managing just fine. I don’t know if Shinra’s frozen my assets or what, but if they have, I don’t need them, you can transact them for the reconstruction endeavors or any other thing.” There was a brief pause and the redhead’s long slender fingers plucked the glasses from his face before setting them down, cerulean irises downcast as the ex-soldier leaned his forehead on the juncture of thumb and forefinger, veiling his visage from Angeal’s view but Vincent could still partially see him. “I’m staying in Midgar…for the time being. I don’t know what I’m going to do long term…yet.” The hand holding his son’s tightened momentarily. “Sephiroth’s happy, and that’s what matters… So does yours and Angeal’s. I’m content, and I don’t want to change your lives, or heaven-forbid steal your son away from you.” Those rubicund lips curled into a shadow of a transient smirk. “It made and still makes me  _ immensely  _ glad to see your happiness, and I know I should probably apologize for staying away, from all of you, knowing ‘Geal was at least alive, degrading, mourning you and-what I then believed-Sephiroth’s death, and shouldering everything all alone, but I  _ can’t  _ and I won’t… I needed that time away… I  _ needed  _ to heal.” 

Quietly muttering about yammering for far too long and needing a  _ drink _ , Genesis detangled his fingers from Sephiroth’s and abruptly stood up, taking his tumbler off the sleek wooden surface and making his way toward the kitchen. Chaos who had been perfectly content with sitting on Angeal’s lap and getting a massage merrowed and pounced after the redhead, purring and meowing as he twisted and turned around the former Commander’s long strides before they both got out of the gunslinger’s line of sight. 

Focusing on his partner and then his son, Vincent was accosted with an urge to purse his lips. Because even though Genesis was claiming that he had no intent on changing their lives, he already had. There was the sound of something going down the drain, before the faucet was opened, the rush of water, and it was turned off just as abruptly; a chink of glass against granite countertops behind him, and finally the silence fell over the room, tangible, awkward and wholly unwelcome. Green eyes cut to him and the older man shifted slightly before raising a brow. 

“I’m...not going anywhere.” 

Sephiroth’s statement was telling in the sense that there was a hesitance behind it, though it seemed to be borne more of a fear of rejection than anything. Feeling suddenly guilty, the older man relented.

“I didn’t say you were.” He said quietly.

The younger man shook his head, silver hair shifting slightly over one shoulder as he reached for his drink and took a sip before continuing.

“You didn’t have to.” He replied. “It’s...in your eyes.” 

Vincent took a deep breath and pushed his own misgivings aside in favor of logic.

“I want to make it clear.” He said calmly. “And I’m not speaking for Angeal in this case, just for myself. I’m not saying you can’t leave, or that you shouldn’t. I just know that you’re happy doing what you’re doing, and I don’t want to see you throw that away because...of a difference of interests.” When the General opened his mouth to speak, he raised a hand. “Furthermore, I’m not saying that it would be something you would be forced into...that’s not the point at all. I’m...not going to address his absence, I’m not in a position where I can judge in terms of absence.” He gave his son a meaningful look and he looked somewhat mollified. “My feelings in regards to that are my own, and I’ll deal with them myself.” 

“That being said, if you did decide to go, I think I  _ can  _ speak for both of us in saying that we would miss you. And I don’t say that in an attempt to get you to stay, but because I don’t want it to seem like you’re a part of our lives that we would just dismiss because of this. You’re important, Sephiroth. I...disregarded that when I chose not to be your father, but I’m trying to make up for that now. I just...want you to know that you’re valued.” He hesitated. “This is probably something we should talk about later, in private. Regardless of the intricacies of it, right now this should be something to celebrate.” When the younger man still looked a bit anxious, the crimson-eyed gunslinger leaned forward somewhat to put a hand on Sephiroth’s knee. “I’m not dismissing your happiness.” He said urgently. “I would never want to be in the position you’re in right now, ever. But we support you no matter what you decide.” 

At that, some of the tension drained from his progeny’s expression, and he turned instead to Angeal.

“You’re alright, yes?” He asked uncertainly. “This is a good thing, right? And it’s not like we were going to force him back here regardless. If he’s happy where he is, why make him choose something else?” 

Someone cleared his throat, obviously Genesis, as he made his way back toward them, Chaos cradled in the crook of his arm, where his traitor of a cat had bared his belly for the redhead to rub. The kitten seemed to shoot him a smug look before purring contently that made Vincent narrow his eyes, before his son’s lover muttered quietly, a wry smile on cerise lips. “I’m here you know.”

Looking back at Angeal, his partner was gazing at him with that expression that made the gunslinger want to reach for him and kiss him breathless; blue-grey eyes shivering with so much love, and there was a wan smile on the General’s lips that was no less affectionate and no less genuine. It made him wonder briefly again, what good he had done in his previous life before the dark-haired First had barged in on his slumber in the basement of Shinra mansion to make him deserving of such level of adoration. The grey-haired soldier held onto the arms of his chair, leaning heavily onto them as he stood up, came to a stand behind Vincent’s chair as he spoke. “Yes, it’s a good thing, and it does call for celebration.” A warm big palm gently brushed over his hair once before settling on his shoulder. “Give me a hand in the kitchen?” 

The crimson-eyed man followed his lover with his eyes for a moment, before standing up, sparing a glance toward his son as the redhead reclaimed his spot beside the aforementioned, and joined Angeal inside. The ebon-haired gunman knew for a fact that his partner usually didn’t like when they tried helping him with things he did around the house when the General hadn’t specifically asked for their aid. Also, something made him believe that it was more an excuse to get him out of there so they could give a moment to Sephiroth and Genesis, and share one themselves. As it turned out, he was right because his companion reached for his hands and cupped them between his, eyes observing his visage for something unknown before the younger man queried. 

“Are you okay?” A fretting smile was proffered. “Something’s bothering you.” Before he could answer, the General whispered lowly. “Thank you for being so kind and considerate,” His hands were raised so the grey-haired First could brush a kiss on his knuckles, “You know I mean it, and it’s not something you said or did, I just can’t help but feel...”

Where they were standing in the kitchen was neither too far away for the General in interim not to hear their words-and also not enclosed enough-but glancing back at his progeny, Genesis’ head was leaning on Sephiroth’s shoulder, cerise lips forming around words that were too low for the crimson-eyed man to hear while long fingers absentmindedly ruffled Chaos’ fur who seemed to be taking a catnap on the redhead’s lap. There was a hint of a small smile playing on the silver-haired man’s lips before he ducked his head and his visage was veiled by a curtain of platinum strands. 

They seemed to be happy.

Maybe his misgivings were really unfounded. But they were just as unshakable. Maybe it was his somewhat overbearing paternal feelings muddling his judgement. It was more than pettiness, however. When Chaos was a resident in his soul, he’d never considered it his right to have emotions...to be unsure or to be truly upset. Now that he had that opportunity he didn’t want to rob himself of them...and as a parent...as someone who simply cared for the silver-haired individual in the living room, he had the right to have such misgivings...the right to process them in a humanistic way he’d never been privy to before. And he was somewhat comforted-as humiliated as he was to admit it-by Sephiroth’s reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere, because he knew at this point that if Sephiroth gave his word, he was going to keep it. It had also occurred to him that this...version of Genesis wasn’t exactly as...externally passionate as the one before...less fire and more...he wasn’t sure what it was…maybe that was the entirety of the issue; that it  _ wasn’t.  _ There was an absence. He didn’t know why it bothered him, but he was determined to get used to it. 

“I’m fine.” He said calmly, smiling. When Angeal looked like he might want to press him further, he shook his head. “This is something that I need to process before talking about, and I really haven’t had the time. It wouldn’t be fair to you if I couldn’t give you a clear perspective of what I was feeling.” He tilted his head. “And I want to understand Sephiroth’s viewpoint on it, it wouldn’t be fair to draw assumptions before knowing his take on it.”

Angeal smiled, his fingers tightening around his before letting go. “I know you’re concerned, rightfully so. I don’t know if it’s frightening you like realizing you could get angry without having to give in to Chaos did, but you really shouldn’t be.” The grey-haired First then moved toward the fridge, taking a handful of carrots and tomatoes out as he continued. “I know you haven’t asked for reassurances, but I think being concerned and having misgivings about the person your son’s dating and how they might affect their future is a father’s right.” Setting them down, his partner motioned for him to give a couple of potatoes and onions from their respective baskets. While the crimson-eyed gunslinger was doing as he was bid, the General added. “If it‘s any help, I’m feeling optimistic about them this time around. Maybe they can make it work, and if they didn’t-as painful as it might be for them and for us to watch from the sidelines-Sephiroth has you to fall back on this time. He has SOLDIER and he has his work.” 

At the mention of his name, the youngest of them was looking toward their direction-Vincent acknowledged-briefly catching the green gaze as he handed said items to his companion. Distantly wondering what kind of culinary shenanigans the Banoran was up to, the said individual quickly shooed him outside, and as he was being gently ushered outside, Angeal muttered affectionately and jokingly before placing a fleeting kiss on his cheek. “Now now, let me get back to my cooking, you’re occupying space without being any help.” 

Two pairs of eyes were watching him with expressions that didn’t sit well with him, and thankfully his long strides quickly carried him to his armchair so he could continue reading his half-finished newspaper, or rather hide the faint blush that was dusting his cheeks behind it.

Until Angeal’s lunch was ready, they’d all taken turns to check up on the grey-haired First, only to be shooed in the same endearing manner. Whenever they were sitting around the living room, it was in a sort of awkward quiet…which was both welcome and strange because his previous moments around the redhead were all filled with constant bickering between them. Yet this Genesis seemed more…  _ mellowed out? _ The thought was strange, and Vincent didn’t really want to dwell on it without asking his son’s opinion first.

Their meal-which turned out to be diced chicken, potatoes and those other vegetables in a thick tomato sauce with dried mint powder-was an easy and delicious affair. His son and his lover helped set the table, and after they were mostly eating in silence that was broken by bits and pieces of conversation about the changes that the city and company were going under. The shoptalk was brought on mostly by Angeal who was mostly updating his childhood friend on the current state of affairs, possibly still hopeful that he could somehow get the former Commander interested in their cause but to no avail. The aforementioned man bore it with a quiet sort of curiosity and a long-suffering but otherwise friendly sort of resignation, while giving Sephiroth strange looks every once in a while, and masking the up-quirk of his sanguine lips behind his glass. His son seemed to be utterly clueless that he was the recipient of such gestures-if the lack of comments was any sign-and only joined in the grey-haired soldier’s attempts at not-so-subtly converting the scarlet-haired ex-First, mostly to kindly and consideringly correct something that the General had made a mistake about.

After their meal, when everything was put back inside the kitchen in their respective places, Angeal excused himself to retire to their bedroom after catching himself dozing off. At one point, Genesis seemed to have found a bottle of dusty dumbapple brandy which he was currently quietly savoring by the floor to ceiling panes of glass occupying the far wall; a snifter cradled in hand as he gazed out the window. Sephiroth caught his eye again, and this time he smiled slightly and moved over somewhat on the sofa, which was as good as a  _ ‘sit down’  _ as either of them would get. Vincent took the invitation graciously and settled down next to him, though still a good distance away.

“You haven’t mentioned if you’re going to ship out.” His son said conversationally. 

Somewhat surprised by the turn of the conversation, Vincent nevertheless settled into the topic easily. 

“I’m not for now.” He replied. Raising an eyebrow he allowed the smallest facets of a grimace to pass over his visage. “It just doesn’t seem...prudent.” 

Their eyes met, and he knew it was understood between them that  _ ‘prudent’  _ was too kind a word. There was a good possibility that if he  _ did  _ ship out to resume his duties he might not make it home in time. And he didn’t like being stationary, didn’t like waiting around for  _ ‘maybes’ and ‘what if’s  _ but right now it was the only thing that he could do. 

“Still,” Sephiroth murmured. “It doesn’t hurt to get away. A few months ago I had a group of thirds invite me North for tobogganing.” 

“The ‘international conference’ you spewed all that rubbish about.” The ebon-haired first said with an air of hilarity. Even more disbelievingly, he laughed. “You  _ didn’t-?!”  _

The General smirked. 

“Maybe once or twice. Sometimes life can get...” He seemed to struggle with himself. “Incredibly boring.” 

The atmosphere of their rapport abruptly changed, and the older man understood they weren’t exactly talking about tobogganing. 

“Just because something is boring doesn’t mean it’s bad.” He pointed out fairly. 

“It doesn’t…and maybe  _ boring  _ isn’t the right word.” The silver-haired first struggled to get out. “But...if it’s entirely like...nothing you knew…” He trailed off and took another sip of his drink before glaring into it. “I’m terrible at tobogganing.” 

Again, Vincent laughed, but it was an understanding kind of laugh.

“Sephiroth,” He said seriously, leaning forward. “If your track record is any indication of success, I would say that you can learn to be an expert...tobogganist even in the face of a snowless mountain.” Raising an eyebrow, he retreated somewhat to tug at his bootlaces. “Just because the wind is blowing from a different direction doesn’t mean that something is...wrong with the sled.” 

“This is the stupidest conversation I’ve ever had.” was the flat declaration as the speaker downed his drink and set it on the table with a thump.

“It was your idea.” The ex-Turk pointed out, smirking. “Though in terms of conversations in general, you’re not exactly a social butterfly.” 

“I wonder if it’s hereditary.” Sephiroth shot back, his lips twitching. 

“Another?” His sire offered, reaching towards one of the assorted bottles on the countertop. He watched in amusement as the silver-haired soldier furrowed his brow, apparently thinking hard.

“No.” was the slow response. “I think I’ve had enough.” A pause. “I think  _ you’ve  _ had enough.” 

“Are you sure you’re in a position to be the judge of that?” Vincent asked slyly.

Green eyes widened.

“Shut up.” 

The order was so bizarre and so out-of-character coming from the person it was coming from that it seemed like the entirety of the room froze. The crimson-eyed gunslinger blinked before dissolving into a series of entirely uncharacteristic chuckles and was soon after followed by his progeny as they slumped on the couch with probably just a little too much alcohol in their systems. For some reason, the camaraderie of it gave him an immense sense of relief...more than anything else ever could. Seeming to sense his relaxation, Sephiroth smiled before glancing at Genesis, a slightly concerned expression crossing his face. Vincent immediately felt a bit guilty, because they had-unintentionally-sequestered the conversation to a bubble that the redhead might find it hard to relate to. Deciding that the General was probably right and he’d likely had enough for the evening, the ebon-haired ex-Turk set his drink down and stood, crossing back over to his armchair and kicking the newspaper under the coffee table. 

“Did I tell you I went tobogganing?” His son asked blithely, looking at his lover’s profile. “I think there’s a cadet in the marine sect that has pictures. I caught him taking them before we left but I wasn’t able to catch him soon enough.” A sigh. “Shame. Though I’ve wondered what he’s doing with them since they haven’t been plastered all over the tabloids.” Sephiroth grimaced. “Though now that I think about it...I don’t think I want to know.” 

The redhead faced the General, an auburn eyebrow arched though its effect was hindered by the otherwise grateful expression that was on Genesis’ visage. “So I’ve heard. Maybe we could go there sometime.” The former Commander replied, coming to sit on the arm of the couch closest to Sephiroth from his post by the window. Not waiting for the youngest of them to answer, he continued. “I thought you were abstaining.” A chuckle and an endearing lopsided smile curved on his son’s lover’s lips. “I remember you holding your liquor better than this.” 

Cerulean irises then returned at him, and Vincent couldn’t help but agree with Sephiroth again because if he was having trouble reading people he’d definitely imbibed too much. 

“I don’t think that’s a prosthetic, and unless the Science Division has made some groundbreaking breakthroughs in the year I wasn’t around, I don’t think they can do limb transplants either.” 

As the gunslinger was trying to come up with a reference about which the redhead was talking about, his son helped him in a tone that made the ebon-haired man feel like a blithering idiot.

“Your arm, he’s talking about your arm, dad.”

Silver eyebrows furrowed before the General flushed the color of his lover’s hair, mumbling something unintelligible and getting frustrated as he took in the sight of the blue-eyed ex-soldier who was trying valiantly to maintain a straight face before giving up the effort to start chortling instead. Vincent hid the smile that spread across his face by turning his head and aiming it at the far wall. The older man could sense rather than see his son attempting to come up with some sort of excuse, but he was obviously not sober enough to think of something clever.

“To answer your question, Sephiroth regrew it.” He said after he’d regained himself. “If you’re going to ask me exactly how, I don’t think I’m in the correct frame of mind to tell you. But I think it was something to do with being able to manipulate Jenova cells at will.” He waved the appendage in question. “Purely the product of yours truly.” His brows furrowed. “And by ‘yours’ I mean Sephiroth, of course. I don’t know how anyone can rebuild an entire body part in ten seconds flat but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.” 

The surprise on Genesis’ face was somewhat tinged with confusion. Vincent could certainly relate; watching his arm regenerate in front of his eyes was something he wasn’t entirely sure was creepy or incredible. And he was grateful, anyway. Being able to scrub his hair with both hands in the shower was something he didn’t know he’d missed until he could do it. And of course sex was...creative...much,  _ much  _ more creative on his part and while Angeal insisted that it didn’t make any difference he was fairly sure his partner took a fairly debauched sort of delight in the fact that Vincent could hold himself up with both hands while he rode him into the sunset. Realizing that he was thinking with the mentality of a thirteen year old, the dark-haired gunslinger cleared his throat loudly and looked at his son, who was still-apparently-mortified by his verbalized slip-up...considering the fact that his face was about the same color as Genesis’ hair. 

Pretty much like his childhood friend, the former Commander nearly spluttered before going somewhat cross-eyed as he tried to wrap his mind around the possibility of it all. Giving up, Genesis knocked his drink back and offered Sephiroth his glass so the younger man could pour him, or both of them in that case so they could drown themselves into a mindless stupor. 

“I can’t-” This time the redhead plucked the bottle from the coffee table, before continuing. “-even fathom how that’s possible. This is  _ reeally  _ good.” A brief scuffle ensued between his son and his partner as the silver-haired man tried to get a taste of the aforementioned drink; Genesis took a swig straight from the neck before relinquishing it over and proceeding to come up with “Though I’m sure it makes things more interesting in bed.”

It took a moment for recognition to dawn in cerulean irises, but it was a moment too late. Sephiroth coughed and said something that sounded a lot like  _ ‘shit’- _ which made for two uncharacteristic verbalizations in a twenty-four hour period-before apparently deciding that getting shitfaced was just fine with him. Long fingers grabbed the brandy and took a long draw before it was set down somewhat less steadily than it had been picked up. Vincent-who was feeling rather like he’d just been put in a sauna when it came to facial heat-grabbed one of the remaining bottles of ale and promptly drowned himself in it. Because if this was where the conversation was going he was going to have to be  _ extremely  _ inebriated. Possibly too inebriated to remember it. In different circumstances he might have left, but he wasn’t entirely sure he could make it to the door. As it was, he took a kind of savage sense of triumph in his newfound ability to hold copious amounts of alcohol-which was, now that he thought about it, likely due to the Jenova cells-as he watched his son and his lover halfheartedly squabble over a bottle of entirely-too-expensive distilled wine. 

“That…” The gunslinger began haltingly, putting down his empty drink container. “...Is none of your business.” 

“They’re really loud.” Sephiroth complained-suddenly and abruptly-from his place halfway in his chair and halfway under the coffee table. Vincent shot his son a look that clearly said  _ ‘Don’t you dare’,  _ but he was ignored as green eyes widened in drunken despair. “I mean, you just don’t get how loud you are. And it’s not Angeal either, you’re a menace. You could give Genesis a run for his money.” 

The aforementioned man looked offended momentarily but the cheeky grin on his face ruined the expression completely as he took the bottle Sephiroth had put down, smirking as another realization seemed to dawn on him. “Oh,” A somewhat uncharacteristic giggle and chuckle at the same time. “That explains a lot of things…” 

The silver-haired man looked questioningly at his lover, who waved a lax nonchalant hand. “I was always thinking who bottomed in their relationship.” With an unabashed look on his face as though he hadn’t said those words, the former Commander looked at Vincent who was trying to disappear into the cushions of the backrest of his armchair. “I don’t really get how you did it with those sharp claws.” The redhead wiggled his fingers in the air in front of his face, but the movement seemed to have been too much, because he promptly flopped down from where he’d been sitting on the armrest onto Sephiroth’s lap. There was a moment of quiet before Genesis decided to embarrass himself even further. “Oh  _ Sephy! _ There you are… I think-” The ex-soldier struggled for another moment, seemed to be thinking too hard before finally finding his words. “We’re either going to stay here tonight or you have to carry me home. I don’t-...” A hand rose to the redhead’s lips to mask a hiccup. “Think I can walk.”

“And you think I can?!” Sephiroth woozily demanded. “Give it up Gen. You’re going to have to sleep here. I know you hate Shinra but there are dangerous people who would happily ravish you on the streets and you’re not sober enough to defend your-yourshelf...and I am not sober enough to protect you.” He appeared to think for a moment. “But the couch- _ this  _ couch-it’s mine. You-you sleep somewh-somewhere else... _ understand?”  _ A frown. “And  _ why  _ are you thinking about who bottoms in their relationship?!” 

“Detachable.” Vincent muttered indignantly, wondering if either man was sober enough to hear him at all. “It was  _ detachable,  _ and was not  _ utilized  _ during-” He abruptly stopped. “Why do I even feel the need to explain this?” 

_ “Angeal!”  _ Sephiroth piped up from the couch.  _ “Good...yes...Angeal-!”  _ This was followed by a groan. The green-eyed General made a study of the ceiling-eyes glassy-before continuing. “That man-” His son continued before swiping for the bottle and managing to knock it on the floor. “-Has the stamina of a Wutaiin bull elephant. You are the neediest, most demanding-” The silver-haired soldier appeared to lose his train of thought. “You’re a slut, Dad.” He said plainly. “For Angeal.” 

Genesis’ eyes looked like they were going to roll out of his head. 

“It’s monogamous.” The older man said grouchily. “Prostitution doesn’t factor in.” 

“You’re still a slut.” 

Promptly Genesis started laughing. It started out as a quiet sound, broken only with the redhead repeating what Sephiroth had so shamelessly uttered, before rolling off his son’s lap and onto the floor. There was an  _ ‘Oof’ _ before the former Commander simply couldn’t seem to be able to hold it together any longer. Slamming his fist against the carpeting as peals of laughter filled the room, his partner’s childhood friend wheezed loudly, obnoxiously as he tried mimicking Sephiroth. More laughter ensued, the scarlet-haired ex-First holding his stomach as his eyes watered with how hard he was laughing. “ _ You’re amazing! _ ” 

Vincent tried to come up with a witty retort-that on second thought maybe wouldn’t be witty at all considering how he was being made fun of and laughed at-failed and proceeded to cross his arms over his chest and sulk. This reaction, if nothing, seemed to make the matters even worse; because Sephiroth quickly uttered “And now he’s pouting and sulking,” imitated his facial expression and posture, before adding “You’re not only louder but you’re more of a drama-” The General seemed to be looking for the right word, but Vincent was simply too irritated and offended to give him a hand and left him to his devices as his progeny tried to convey the meaning with his hands. The gunslinger could swear the silver-haired man had a light bulb on his head that lighted up when he finally found it. “Queen! Drama queen that-than Genesis is!” And then continued to mock-sulk before reaching for another bottle. The aforementioned man who had sobered up slightly and regathered himself somewhat abruptly fell to pieces again, rolling on the floor as he roared, wheezing “Sephy… you’re... killing me!” before repeating the nickname he’d come up with only minutes ago every time he could catch his breath.

Before their circus could go on longer than it had already, there was a rustle of clothes, and the man of the hour stood in the entry of the hallway, arms crossed over his chest and a black eyebrow raised at the mess they had made out of themselves and the General’s apartment. It seemed to have sobered his son and his partner for a moment, before both of them now, burst out laughing in unison. 

The grey-haired First shook his head despairingly at the two, a flush rising up his neck as he turned to gaze embarrassedly and commiseratingly at the ex-Turk who was beginning to feel more and more dejected and miserable, before asking. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“A gil for your thoughts!” The former Commander exclaimed from where he was on the floor, before trying to tackle the General in interim off the couch; failing, and trying to drag him down to the ground by pulling on silver tresses, Genesis then looked like he might be ill any minute now and gave up. There was a slurred mutter before the redhead grumbled just as unintelligibly. “Goddess… I don’t feel well.”

Vincent was about to give up and throw in the towel-because obviously this had become more about unsubtle jibes concerning his manhood than anything in the realm of banter-when Sephiroth managed to crawl his way over to him, a somewhat forlorn look on his face. Raising an eyebrow, the near-entirety of his mirth gone, the older man settled his expression into something entirely unimpressed. 

“You know I love you right?” The silver-haired man whined from his place at his feet. 

It was  _ very  _ hard to remain angry after such a declaration, but he was tired and a little bit wounded-though he’d never admit it out loud-and he just wanted the day to  _ end. _

“I do.” He said thinly, standing with as much dignity as he could muster. 

He frowned and tried to think through his muddled thoughts. The inherent  _ pain  _ of his partner's death...the reality of the fact that should such a thing happen...it was very likely he wouldn't be coming home to this. Because they could all get caught up in the moment, but there was the singular truth that eventually, things were going to dissolve. And he was not going to stick around to see the end of this. It was probably the alcohol talking, but he was tired.

He couldn't do this.

Smiling in what he hoped was a positive manner at his lover, Vincent swept past him-towards the bedroom-before looking over his shoulder. 

“Coming?” He asked idly, tilting his head. When his lover looked like he was somewhat wanting to stay to clean up the living room, he sighed inwardly and about-faced...because he wasn't going to force the younger man to deal with the carnage alone. And Sephiroth was still sitting next to his chair with a somewhat lost and confused expression, but he couldn't bring himself to move past the shame and disgust...though most of which was directed at himself. “I'll get the kitchen.” He offered, and when Angeal nodded...a quiet sort of understanding in his eyes, he was grateful. Incredibly grateful. “I won't be long.” Reluctantly, he cast his gaze back to the living room, though he kept most of his focus on the far wall. “You two...have fun.” He said in a tone that was so obviously a poor attempt at cheerfulness it made him want to wince. “Congratulations, and good luck.”

Later...when he was lying in bed staring up at a dark ceiling with his partner slumbering peacefully at his side, Vincent acknowledged that he wished Sephiroth hadn't killed Chaos. Because at least Chaos had taken his anger, his worries, and his sorrows and shoved them down into a place where he could repress them. At least Chaos was predictable, because Chaos didn't permit him the agony of being able to feel too little…

...or-in this case-too much. 


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Sitting on the edge of the tub and holding his childhood friend’s hair up for him as he proceeded to be violently sick, Angeal was kind of torn between being more caring toward the redheaded individual or forgoing it in favor of somewhat reprimanding said friend. 

He felt guilty for taking that nap which had inevitably turned into a very deep sleep; it seemed to be the new norm, or rather had been for the past couple of months. Regardless of new or old norms, however, if he had been awake, or if he’d woken up earlier before things could take such a drastic turn, maybe this could have been prevented. 

‘This’ was a situation where the individual he loved was still lying awake in their bed despite it being an ungodly hour in the morning. 

Sephiroth and Genesis seemed to have imbibed so much alcohol and so many different things at once that Angeal was somewhat surprised that at least one of them-if not both-wasn’t rolling in a pool of vomit in the middle of the living room. At one point, the silver-haired man seemed to have dragged and deposited himself on his usual spot on the couch. Said man’s partner, on the other hand, had been fast asleep when Vincent and he had returned to the relative peace of their bedroom. Angeal hadn’t been awake and around to know what had happened exactly but judging by the carnage he’d walked in, and the vocalization that had disrupted his sleep in the first place, he could come up with a  _ ‘decent’  _ idea about what had transpired.

It was blatantly obvious that his partner was upset and hurt; enough that he hadn’t talked with the grey-haired Banoran either. Well, not until several minutes ago, when the ebon-haired gunslinger had nudged him awake and told him to go and help his redheaded friend in the bathroom. Angeal had been struck with the urge to kiss that pale forehead, and hold his lover close long and hard enough until the older man would push him away from having had enough; because even in the state Vincent was, he was still caring, still putting aside his feelings, still being the bigger person. 

And every time he caught the older man behaving like that, or anything really, it made him  _ feel… _

If his love for the crimson-eyed ex-Turk was akin to a tree, every time, it felt like it sprouted another branch that reached for the sky in a beautiful wooden limb dotted with tiny green leaves and breathtakingly beautiful florets.

It didn’t have to be anything amazing really, though even that was hard because with Vincent even the most mundane everyday things were somehow more meaningful, somehow more precious. Maybe it had been his partner’s ‘death’ and his degradation combined that had made him arrive at such a level of understanding. But he couldn’t help but pay more attention to everything his lover did; be it just striding toward the kitchen-how he held the handle of the pan with those new digits Sephiroth had given to him which sometimes made him miss the prosthetic arm as surprising as it sounded-or how the older man’s pale hands gripped Cerberus when Angeal went with him to watch him train in the Turks’ turf. At times, he found himself barely holding back from the urge to run his hand through the midnight-colored hair that cascaded over powerful shoulders, in a public, professional setting no less… It was hard not to, impossible even.

It was indisputable that the brief-and yet really  _ long _ -lapse in their relationship had aged Angeal, in ways he’d only witnessed in other couples when one of them passed away. It had always struck him as odd, filled him with some sort of denial and disbelief because he hadn’t thought it possible, until it happened to him. The scientist who had been monitoring the progress of his illness had told him that his condition had worsened exponentially, but the General didn’t need someone else to tell him that. He’d already seen it, known it deep inside.

Vincent’s responding to Jenova cells had been a breeze of fresh air during the time they were grappling with so many things at once. From the day the lab assistant assigned to his lover’s rehabilitation had come to them with the news, the General had latched onto the new flicker of hope shining in his otherwise bleak life; even if sometimes the reaction of his partner’s physicality to the Jenova cells reached a plateau and they had to up the dosage again, even if some days it was really hard to believe that one day he would finally see those beautiful crimson eyes open again. 

Their lives seemed to have been made up of black and white moments for so long. In between all this, there was also Genesis’ absence- _ death _ -and how it’d been affecting Sephiroth. Both of them had mourned the redhead once, and while it was still painful, it was like an old sword wound, scabbed over but still aching, never forgotten. The amount of responsibilities they had, had helped them both, kept them busy and almost always on the tip of their toes. Angeal was immensely grateful that Sephiroth had been there with him, helping him, and shouldering most of it alone, as always in the same manner he made things seem so easy on the outside. The grey-haired First suspected that he would have probably gone insane trying to draw up figures and think about how to deal with the aftermath of the catastrophic event of Omega’s emergence all by himself. 

In the end though, those crimson eyes did open, and it was like a new life had been breathed inside Angeal’s lungs, injected into his veins. All his efforts were focused on the dark-haired gunman from that moment afterwards, so much so that he’d forgotten all about the degradation; though it was there niggling at the back of his mind, sometimes glaringly obvious even when he tired faster than his healing lover during their physical therapy sessions and had to switch places with Sephiroth because he needed to sit down and get some rest. Vincent, though, had been averse to their presence, but the General hoped that it wasn’t in a bad way, because he thought he understood; because when finally the ex-Turk was up and running, Angeal was now the one who needed help doing the most ridiculous things, things a twenty six year old should have no difficulty doing.

Shouldn’t have, but  _ did _ .

The idea of his mortality wasn’t what scared him, it never had been. What made him want to crawl inside Vincent’s embrace some nights and vanish from the face of Gaia was that he was leaving his lover alone; that their time together had been too short, that there were places he’d wanted to visit with the crimson-eyed man, so many things he wanted to do with him, beside him. Maybe when Shinra wasn’t a youngling anymore, if his partner didn’t want to stay there and contribute to their cause, they could have gone and lived somewhere peaceful. And Angeal…and Angeal would have proposed to him, as sentimental and maybe ridiculous as it might have been…even if Vincent might have never said yes, and promptly cut their relationship short...because obviously the Banoran was a hopelessly romantic fool...

He had even bought the ring…but now, it was lying forgotten in a corner of his desk drawer...collecting dust.

“‘Geal-...” Genesis croaked, breaking him out of his reverie. Angeal found a pair of blue eyes looking at him with a weird expression as his childhood friend wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I fucked up…” 

The grey-haired First had a wild urge to snap at him and throw both Sephiroth and the redhead out of his house, but he bit his tongue and let go of the red strands, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You’re not a child Genesis, for heaven’s sake. You’re twenty-six, and-...” The  _ ‘No shit’ _ he might have otherwise uttered at the beginning was omitted. Instead, using the edge of the tub as support, he shook his head as he stood up. “You know what, never mind. Just don’t expect me to let you stay the night next time you come here and decide to drink yourself to death. I think Sephiroth too, could use your or his own couch for awhile.” 

The impulse to glance over his shoulder and check if his words had hurt the redhead was there, as per usual, but Angeal decided against it; his friends had set themselves up for this when they’d decided to act like their past fifteen-year-old selves. He’d left a glass of water and a pill for both of them in an act of kindness he was quickly regretting but that was just about how benevolent he was feeling given the scenario. They could be really grateful that he couldn’t be the Wutain bull elephant he’d been called earlier at the moment; and a rather angry, and vengefully protective Wutain bull elephant at that.

“Go to sleep, Gen. Goodnight.” The grey-haired soldier muttered over his shoulder before entering their bedroom and closing the door behind him.

Shame and guilt pushed to the forefront as he found a pair of ruby irises gazing at him in the dark. Vincent was leaning to the headboard, a pool of sheets twisted around his waist; and Angeal wanted to commit that image to his memory. A sheepish smile stretched over his lips and a slight warmth rose up his neck as his hand made its involuntary trek to scratch the back of his head. 

Oddly enough, he didn’t move from his spot. Contemplating the possible reasons behind his move-or in this case, lack thereof-the General realized that in some weird sort of mindset, he found himself responsible for his friends’-or rather idiotic  _ kids’ _ -lack of understanding in terms of social conduct. Effectively, he was trying to give the ebon-haired man an opportunity to be as avenging of his hurt feelings as he wanted to be, even if he had to bear the brunt of it; so that maybe the crimson-eyed ex-Turk’s relationship with his son and said son’s partner wouldn’t suffer, at least not in the long term.

“I’m sorry.” He offered at length. “If it’s any consolation, they’ll be gone in several hours and if you want, I can kick Sephiroth out for awhile too. Though I think he’d probably kick himself out in the morning when his mnemonic memory catches up with him.” The blue-eyed First added. “We can tell them-or Genesis, not to come over. Not for a couple of months at least, anyway.”

Deciding that it was probably still too early for his brain to actually say something worth hearing, he promptly shut his mouth and proceeded to look even more embarrassed, if such a thing was even possible.

“That's the last thing I want.” Vincent replied, sounding somewhat despairing. “I just…” He shook his head. “I don’t really have the words for it, Angeal. You know I’m not good at...articulating much of anything.” He hesitated. “Sometimes...seeing someone you care about so inherently different is...an ugly thing.” 

The older man appeared to struggle with himself before tilting his head back against the headboard, his gaze focusing on the ceiling. One hand rose to grasp a shoulder, fingers tightening somewhat before letting go. Onyx strands of hair fell forward to brush over the bluish veins traversing the underside of an alabaster forearm. And the blue-eyed Soldier couldn't really tell if his lover was struggling more with what Sephiroth had said...or the culmination of it had ended so badly through crimson-eyed gunslinger was simply in a state of utter disbelief over the entire affair. 

“I don't know why I'm struggling with it so much.” Vincent bit out at length. “Maybe it's a parental thing...the desire to keep your children close...to keep them safe. I wish I didn't  _ have  _ to feel anything like this. And I'm sure-” He broke off, looked mildly hysterical. “-I'm sure that such distance would be a preferred thing, for many individuals. What couple doesn't want to be separate from others…? Doesn't want to get as far away from their sires as is physically possible?” A shake of the head. “And this is the last thing I should be worrying about, the last thing I should be considering.” A determined look settled over aquiline features. “I'm going to move on from this, get over it. I have to, or I won't be able to see anything objectively anymore. I won't be able to focus on continuing this anymore.” He shot an apologetic look at Angeal. “And I'm sorry you have to deal with this... _ stupidity  _ on my part; but it's hard to look past it.” A sigh. “Maybe it would be better if we banned them, I think they would appreciate it... really. That distance, maybe we need to move apart in order to move on with our lives. If there's anything I've learned about family, it's that it's only as strong as it is until something better comes along. I need to alter that viewpoint somehow.” 

Shaking his head with, and deciding if he didn’t sit down soon, he was going to suffer leg cramps, Angeal closed the distance between him and their bed, a commiserating smile on his lips as he settled into the give of the mattress. Wrapping his fingers around his lover’s hand that was lying on the covers, he gave it a gentle squeeze before drawing up his legs and stretching them out as he spoke. “I think you’re spinning a nightmare out of this, and it’s not  _ stupidity _ , Vincent.” A sigh. “I know maybe it’s not the right time to tell you this…” Leaning against the headboard, the grey-haired First snaked a hand between the soft padding and his lover’s shoulders before drawing him close somewhat. “And I’m not trying to remind you of-...” The younger man struggled for a moment before deciding to get to the point. “What I’m trying to tell you is that you weren’t around to watch him grow…not that Sephiroth had a normal childhood and teenage experience, but you’re having to deal with all these emotions  _ now _ . It’s only understandable that they feel overwhelming to you.” When his partner shifted somewhat, the Banoran quickly added. “And maybe you don’t want to hear this too, but when I was trying to keep them apart, when I was giving up on Sephiroth, it was you who showed me how beautiful their love had been, how beautiful it was. I’m not sure if it’s still beautiful, or if it’s love, but like I told you before…if they fall apart this time, he has you at his back. He has SOLDIER, and as much as parents say and think their kids will always remain kids…Sephiroth is not a kid, and he’s not delicate. They’ve both been through so much that I don’t think if they were delicate they could have persevered.” 

“I’m not sure if it’s love.” Vincent said miserably. “That’s what worries me. And I think what worries me more is that they don’t know it, and what worries me  _ more than that  _ is that it’s-” He broke off and appeared to gather himself. “Maybe, in time, it will be again.” He murmured, more to himself than anything. Gaining some semblance of emotional stability, the crimson-eyed man smiled-a little brittly-at Angeal. “And, really, maybe it’s just me. Thank you,” He said gratefully. “For putting things into perspective.” Sliding downward somewhat, the older man exhaled and let heavy lids droop. “I feel like we should be up tomorrow.” He muttered. “To reassure them that we don’t want to skin them alive.” 

Sapphire eyes took a moment to observe his exhausted companion. Dark lashes dusted pale, high cheekbones as his partner settled into a state of semi-relaxation. It obviously took him a great amount of effort to do so, but he was managing it rather well. And he was a little concerned because Vincent wasn’t the type to give into fretting in such a physical manner. It was-at least-good that he’d managed to hold up during the majority of the party. If anything, Angeal was proud of him for that, because there was nothing that said he was required to be polite or kind under such circumstances. At the same time, he hoped that the ex-Turk’s perspective changed, because wallowing in such emotions didn’t do anyone any good. 

Giving in to his urge, Angeal tangled his fingers in the soft ebony tresses, a smile stretching slowly over his lips at the feeling warming up inside his chest. Just as he was about to open his mouth though, there was a knock on the door of their bedroom that gave him a jolt. Quickly reverting his glance from the door to his lover, he found Vincent opening his eyes wearily to look toward the direction of the entryway from underneath charcoal lashes.

Their midnight-or rather pre-dawn-guest was none other than his redheaded friend.

Stifling a groan that was threatening to bubble up his throat, the General retrieved his hand as his partner raised himself to a sitting position.

Tentatively and slowly closing the door behind himself, Genesis made his way hesitatingly inside the room looking somewhat flushed in the darkness as he circumvented the bed to sit down at the foot of it on his companion’s side. Furrowing his brows, Angeal tilted his head.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help but overhear-”

“Eavesdrop you mean.” The blue-eyed First corrected. “That’s new, Genesis.”

“I didn’t, but believe what you wish.” Azure eyes turned to the oldest of them. “I know we’ve never seen eye-to-eye and I think we’ve never really had the chance to sit down alone and talk, but I think this has to do.” A pause. “Angeal knows that it’s not what I do, asking for parents’ permission, because it’s not like I want to marry your son, or ask for their opinion really, because we’ve already been together before you came along, and also because I don’t think Sephiroth and I are that young anymore.” When the gunslinger was about to comment, the former Commander raised a hand, blue eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. “Though, I have to say I haven’t been around for a year, while you both have, so maybe you know this Sephiroth better than I do- _ did _ … You say you’re not sure if it’s love…though I’m not sure what you think it is…but here I am, asking anyway.” The redhead looked away, his hand twisting the sheets beside him. “If you think I should stay away from him...that somehow I’m  _ bad _ for him,” A bitter chuckle. “I’ll try my best to leave. I can’t promise you anything, though.”

Vincent seemed to hesitate, as if reluctant to tell the younger man something before sighing heavily.

“When I said it wasn’t love, I wasn’t talking about what you likely think I’m talking about.” He said firmly, his tone indicating he wasn’t particularly keen on addressing the subject. “And-like I said before-I’m not in a position to pass judgement in terms of absence.” Scrubbing a hand through his hair, the ex-Turk continued, his tone slightly gentler. “I’m not going to tell you to go away either, and I think Sephiroth would be extremely upset that you even considered this.” He raised an eyebrow when the blue-eyed former Commander opened his mouth. “I’m not going to tell him-” he shot a pointed look at Angeal. “- _ We’re  _ not going to tell him, but it’s not...like you...at all...though I won’t pretend to know you very well, I won’t insult you like that. This...it’s not a positive thing either. I’m not putting you down for it, I’m just saying that I think your relationship should take precedence over my opinion...and it concerns me a little bit that it doesn’t.” 

Genesis rubbed a hand over his face, before deciding that holding it in his palms seemed to be a better choice. For several moments, they just sat there in silence, before his childhood friend finally spoke; his voice thick with emotions as he looked away so Angeal was staring at a thatch of red. “I just want him to be happy.” Another bitter chuckle. “Maybe I’m trying too hard…”

“Gen…” The grey-haired First couldn’t hold it in, and maybe in the end his caring side won over his reprimanding one as he tried to comfort his childhood friend; the former Commander, however, didn’t let him continue.

“I’m going to tell him myself, and it’s not-...I’m all talk and really not-...I’m just trying to-” Genesis trailed off, muttering a  _ ‘Fuck’ _ under his breath as his hand rose to his face where it was turned away from them. “I’m sorry alright? I’m sorry for what I said when I was drunk.” Rising to his feet, he continued, with his back to them. “Your opinion doesn’t take precedence over my relationship with him, but I know he cares for you. And you care for him, and I can’t-I can only imagine how father-son relationships work, how your relationship works, but I know he’d rather have your blessing.” A pause, before it was quietly added. “And in some strange way I do too.”

Striding to the door, his former comrade didn’t wait for them to answer as he uttered over his shoulder. “Thanks for letting me stay. And for everything really. I need to go for a walk… Tell Sephiroth that I went home in the morning.”

Motioning to get up from his seat on the bed, Angeal opened his mouth to tell the older man to stay before the aforementioned beat him to it. “And Vincent, I really meant being glad to have you back. Thank you, for trying.”

“Gen-...”

The door was shut in his face. Running a frustrated, weary hand over his visage and grumbling under his breath, Angeal turned to look at his partner with an expression that possibly showed how much he wanted to throw himself out of the window at the moment.

“My next line was going to tell him to  _ ‘be himself’. _ ” Vincent muttered exasperatedly. “Because he’s right about trying too hard, but he’s wrong about needing my bloody blessing. Sephiroth does not give-” He appeared to struggle with himself. “-A flying explicative relating to intercourse about my  _ blessing. _ ” He looked-somewhat wildly-at his partner. “Did I say the wrong thing? I didn’t tell him to  _ leave,  _ I told him to  _ stay,  _ and to not take me into consideration whatsoever.” 

Another knock on the door, and he sincerely wanted to scream. Because Sephiroth came in looking absolutely  _ horrible  _ but also entirely  _ confused.  _

“Yes” The gunslinger snapped. “Both of you just file in here and proceed to misinterpret everything I’m saying, please do.” When his son looked somewhat punchdrunk he waved a hand. “Carry on.” 

It took the silver-haired first a moment to recover himself. 

“Genesis just left.” He muttered, voice gravelly with sleep. “And he seemed upset.” A vague gesture. “I couldn’t get up in time.” 

Vincent struggled with himself.

Because he had promised the redhead he wouldn’t tell him, but there was no way he could avoid this without making up something completely unbelievable and possibly even worse.

“He seems to think he needs my blessing for you to be comfortable with your relationship. And when I said that my blessing should not be a factor in his decisions, he was extremely distraught.” 

Considering the fact that he must have been nursing a very large hangover, the General caught on rather quickly. Vincent watched as a familiar nose wrinkled in consternation. 

“Why would I need your blessing?” He croaked. “What  _ year  _ are we living in?!” He glanced around the room. “Am I still drunk?” As the word passed his lips, the green-eyed First went pale. “I called you a…” A loud groan and Sephiroth slumped against the doorframe. “And I…”

“Yes. That.” The gunslinger said shortly. “If you were younger, I’d ground you. As it is, I think you’ve probably suffered enough and you’re an adult so there’s nothing I can do about it.” 

Sephiroth looked at Angeal.

“Help me.” He begged. “I’m...completely over my head here. Not in terms of _him-_” He flailed a hand at his sire. “-But in terms of _this. _All of this.” A shake of a silver head. “Even back...before...before all of this happened and the three of us were just Soldiers...he wasn’t like this. Is there something I need to do to reassure him it’s okay to...be himself?” 

Angeal tried valiantly to stop himself from facepalming, and a hard one at that. Settling for a sigh instead, he looked at his partner’s son and then at the said partner. “I don’t think you said anything wrong.” A wearily affectionate smile was stretching over his lips as he maintained eye contact with ruby irises. “I also presume I’ve told you before how much I love it when you come up with all these elaborate terms even when it’s I-don’t-know-what-time-is-it in the morning.” Opening the door to their closet, the General pulled out a jacket while continuing. “Also, me finding it somewhat funny that both of you wanted to tell him to be himself aside…” Running a hand through his hair and mumbling a ‘I’m too old for this’, the blue-eyed First turned to face his comrade. “I don’t think he’s gone too far, unless he’s taken a break through the wall and decided to fly all the way to his home which we know he wouldn’t do. But then again, he’s your lover and I think that’s enough reason for me to say that if he’s going to make my early morning miserable, you have to deal with it along with me too. Come on.” 

Grumbling like the old man he probably looked like at the moment, Angeal didn’t wait to see if Sephiroth was actually coming or not. Though if the shuffle of clothes, and the subsequent rustle of sheets was any sign, he acknowledged that none of them were going to get any more sleep than they already had. 

Honestly, he was just as clueless to the ways of this new Genesis as the other two occupants of his household were. 

Glancing over his shoulder, the silver-haired man was making himself more presentable-well as presentable as one could be after a whole evening of drinking-before they began their trek through the corridors. “Do you have your pager on you to tell the night patrol to stop him on the maintenance exit?” 

His childhood friend’s lover was doing just that as they waited for the elevator to get to their floor. “I don’t know what to say or how to help you Sephiroth. Honestly, I’m just as clueless as you are. I think you two need to talk. And  _ a lot _ .” A pause. “I think you have  _ a lot _ to catch up on. And don’t tell me you just jumped each other like rabbits again.” Glancing at the silver-haired soldier beside him who straightened abruptly and stopped in the middle of whatever he’d been doing, Angeal couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose in a poor attempt at masking the most exaggerated eye-roll of the century. 

“I...tried to make my concerns clear upon the initial conversation.” Sephiroth said hesitantly. “Though not in regards to this...in regards to jumping back into things before establishing where we are... _ who  _ we are...” The silver-haired man cleared his throat, somewhat awkwardly. “What came after isn’t any of your concern...but I did try.” He looked away. “I just...sometimes it’s like I’m in the same room with a stranger, but when we-” He flushed red. “It was something similar, familiar...I wanted to take what I could get.” He grimaced. “I guess that’s selfish.” 

“It is.” Vincent deadpanned, though his expression was sympathetic and a little worried. “I can’t say I’d have done the same thing myself, but I understand your motivations...of seeking something that wasn’t different in the face of so much difference.” The gunslinger tilted his head. “Do you...feel that you’re different?” He shot an apologetic look at Angeal for Commandeering the conversation. “I just ask, because I notice you are. Not in the sense of your core, but in the sense of what you value. You have more values than you used to.” A pause as he bent down to pull on his boots. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, but to someone who didn’t watch your values develop...someone who’s just come in from something very different than this...I think that could be intimidating.”

“That's what I was trying to  _ communicate _ when-!” The General broke off and looked abruptly despairing. “It doesn't particularly matter now, does it?”

“Maybe not,” His sire replied wearily. “But it bears mentioning.” 

Sephiroth was holding his pager nervously.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to have the men stop him? He might think he’s being detained or something.” 

“Well, it’s either that or follow him around the whole city and I honestly didn’t sign up for a morning jog all the way up to wherever he-didn’t-really-say his house is.” Tugging on the lapels of his jacket, Angeal couldn’t suppress a shudder. “I have a feeling that he won’t do something violent. I don’t know if that’s a good sign or bad sign, but based on how he reacts maybe we could try to understand him better?” Glancing at the silver-haired man for a moment, he prayed to whatever deity who was listening that by doing this, they weren’t sending a squadron of men to infirmary this early in the morning.

As they descended floor after floor in utter silence, the interim General finally put his pager aside. And no matter how hard Angeal wracked his brain to come up with some sort of approach, he kept drawing blanks. “I’d say one of us approaches him first so he wouldn’t feel overwhelmed, but then again I think we should all go together, maybe to show him that we all care, on varying levels of course?” Voicing his thoughts just as they were forming, he’d been about to reach for Vincent’s hand beside him before the ding of the elevator-signifying their arrival on the basement floor-gave him jump.

“We could debate this all morning,” Vincent said dryly. “But I thoroughly expect to nap today.” 

Sephiroth grunted in assent as they all stepped out in unison. The basement floor was-as was generally common at the early hour-mostly deserted. Once a few of the stationed Thirds caught sight of Angeal and the General-of course-they were very nearly overrun before being shooed back to their respective stations. The maintenance doors were down a hallway somewhat to the rear of the layout, and they were periodically accosted by employers and recruits alike. Vincent wasn’t any luckier; he seemed to have developed a small fan crowd that was evidently shameless about asking for advice no matter what the occasion or time. They were forced to beg the help of a passing drill-sergeant who looked like he had just clocked in. The individual in question’s regulatory bellows echoed all the way from where they left him to the doors. The Soldiers stationed there gave them all somewhat hairy glances and Angeal supposed that it was likely pretty well earned. Vincent looked like he had just rolled out of bed-which, really, he had-and Sephiroth looked like he had stumbled out of a bar after a long night of drinking. Which, realistically, wasn’t far off. The blue-eyed man wasn’t entirely sure how his appearance stood up to their scrutiny but he guessed that he wouldn’t be much better. 

Genesis was standing somewhat to the side, though his expression was entirely unreadable. The former Commander got the sincere sense that some of the men might have been pestering him before they came along and that they’d only relented because of their presence. His suspicions were somewhat bolstered when Sephiroth gave the patrol a stern look and they proceeded to blush an interesting shade of fuschia. For a moment, the three of them were somewhat at a loss, because they hadn’t planned this far ahead and now every time one of them would open his mouth someone else would do the same. 

“Dismissed, thank you.”

His childhood friend’s lover’s voice rang out in the mostly bereft hallway, pulling him from his thoughts. Watching as the recruits exited, Angeal couldn’t help but feel a small degree of fondness for their evident enthusiasm. Once they were long gone, Sephiroth spoke. 

“We’d...like to talk to you.” He said quietly. “If that’s alright?” 

It seemed Genesis robbed the trophy for the most exaggerated eye-roll of the century from him. “Was  _ that  _ all this was about? You nearly gave me a heart attack.” The redhead’s tone wasn’t angry at all, a little bit nervous maybe, but that seemed to be bleeding out of him quickly. Nevertheless, it was hard to tell for sure especially by his ridiculous choice of  _ ‘outfit’ _ . 

“That was us trying not to follow you around the city in the middle of the night. Where do you think you’re going like that?” Angeal stepped in. “Come on, let’s go back Genesis.” Reaching for the former Commander’s arm seemed to be the wrong move, in terms of both the new and the old person. Crossing that item from his list, the Banoran maintained his distance. 

“I just wanted to go for  _ a walk  _ to cool down and then go home.” There was another long minute of awkward silence before the scarlet-haired ex-First sighed rather dramatically and addressed his partner’s son. “I don’t think you’re offering us all to talk here, and I don’t think you’d like to come stay at my place.” The redhead gestured to the dark, barren street on the other side of the door. “Back to yours again?” His childhood friend queried somewhat defeatedly.

Angeal tilted his head to regard Vincent and Sephiroth on either sides of himself before crossing his arms over his chest. “We could try voting, but I think you’re going to be severely outnumbered Gen.” Offering a small smile, he added. “You’ve woken us up, dragged us all the way here from the Residential, so I’d say count this as a win and come back up. I’ll throw something together for breakfast while we talk, hmm?”

And it wasn’t at all like they had just traveled all these floors down some minute ago; well except for a crimson-eyed gunslinger who looked really close to falling over and dozing off on the spot and a silver-haired General who was rubbing circular patterns on his temples. Genesis-who was silently and with a somewhat cheeky grin taking in their miserable postures and countenances-was the only one of their quartet that managed to look utterly stylish even with his horrid fake glasses.

Dragging themselves back inside, Vincent promptly and without any ceremony plopped down in his armchair and Sephiroth mirrored his father’s gesture on the couch while Angeal observed all this unfold from his station by the kitchen entrance with a strange amount of affection.

“Sephiroth,” Gesturing to the glass of water and the pill sitting beside it on the coffee table, the grey-haired First watched the youngest of them groan uncharacteristically before sitting up to take the medicine, nodding gratefully in his direction. Turning around to get the coffee maker running, he missed when their mutual former comrade-who’d been standing in the middle of the living room regarding father and son-decided to sit down on a chair. The only indicator of it was the soft scrape of chair legs against the flooring. 

“We’re all here, so let’s talk...or do you want to do it later when you’re all more awake?”

Glancing over his shoulder from the kitchen didn’t give him a good vantage point, but he spoke anyway. “I don’t think any of us are going to go to bed any time soon unless we all call in sick,” The image of how they must have looked earlier on the basement floor flashed in his head, and he couldn’t stop the brief laugh escaping him. “Something tells me that’s not a good idea. But joking aside,” Placing the coffee carafe inside the machine, the General turned around and splayed his hands on the countertop as he continued, leaning on it heavier than he’d have liked. “What’s wrong with you? No, that’s not right. Who are you? Who’s this new Genesis, it’s not like you… Not wanting to be a hero, alright. Not wanting money and fame, or a job at Shinra, understandable. Really, it doesn’t mean anything. But you trying to keep everyone pleased is stretching yourself too thin. You’re trying too hard, and it shows.” Casting his eyes down to the numerous tiny dots on the granite, he sighed. “You know me and you know Sephiroth. Values, SOLDIER, and Shinra aside, we’re the same people you knew. We’ve changed, because not to change in the face of all that has occurred is impossible, but deep inside, we’re still your friends...your comrades in arms.”

The redhead was quiet for the entirety of his monologue and even afterwards, but he seemed to be gazing toward Sephiroth’s direction. Changing his line of sight, Angeal found ruby irises focused on him in an expression of weary understanding, their depths softened with sleeplessness and affection that made Angeal smile in spite of the overall vibe of their conversation.

“I don’t know...but I thought trying to keep the people you care for, personally or by proxy, happy was the right way to go about things. Was I wrong?” Genesis queried genuinely, his tone even and surprisingly sarcasm and bite free. “You all feel entitled to change, but when you see a different side of me, it strikes you as bizarre. And you tell me that I’m twenty six, that Sephiroth and I aren’t kids anymore, and yet you coddle us just the same. How hypocritical is that?” A chuckle as his childhood friend reached for his forehead with slender digits, elbow leaning on the armrest of his chair. “Every  _ damn  _ time,  _ every damn time _ I think I’m going the right way, one of you starts questioning me… And it’s really my own fault because I value your perception of me so much that it rattles my foundations… It makes me stop and question myself.” A sigh. “But I can’t change that… I can’t  _ unplace _ the trust I have in you.”

Angeal wished he was standing in the living room so he could see his childhood friend’s face instead of his head of red. The hand dropped to grip the armrest. “I love you both, differently, but I guess in its core,” A shake of a splash of auburn. “Not so much.  _ I love you _ , in a way that’s probably too much for my own good…unconditionally, if you could call it that…in a way that leaves me breathless…selfish in a selfless way and I can’t help but want more…want the two of you all for myself. And when Vincent came along, I resented him for taking you away, for taking Sephiroth away, which he didn’t really…but that was a legitimate fear I had,” Knowing the man he’d spent a lot of years growing up beside, the blue-eyed First could safely assume that Genesis was smiling, in that wan dreamy manner of his when he talked about the past. But maybe that wasn’t a facet of the redhead anymore, so he couldn’t really be sure. “So, I let it out in every way I knew…Tried to make him miserable... and guess what, it happened again. Now that I’ve decided to try and care for him, because you and Sephiroth love him, because you care for him and his presence makes you both happy, and let’s be honest, Vincent is probably likeable personality-wise as much as he’s easy on the eyes, but... Again you all turn on me.” A pause. “Past Genesis, present Genesis… I’m not all that different that you think me to be. I’m tired of people always yanking on my collar at every corner; asking me what I’m doing, where I’m going… I always  _ hated _ it when no one seemed to think I was competent enough to do what I was doing. I don’t want to be smothered in affection, at least not that I’m aware of… I always... ” A short brittle laugh. “In Mideel they called me the pompous swordslinger. ‘What does a swordslinger have to do with farming’ they said. But they didn’t try to stop me. Pester me, some of them did, but it was harmless coming from strangers who didn’t mean anything to me. But you’re all that I know in this world that’s quickly changing,  _ all that’s familiar to me... _ ” A dramatically loud and exasperated exhale. “So… what should I do? Who should I be for you all to  _ just _ shut the  _ fuck _ up and stop questioning everything I say and do?”

Genesis’ auburn head whipped toward Sephiroth. “Enough talking for you Seph? Are we taking things slow enough for you to be able to follow on the uptake?” And it was uttered in a perfunctory sort of way that made the words acrid and at the same time, not. “This is familiar, isn’t it? Vitriol. But then again,  _ wasn’t it you _ who told me Genesis I’m tired of your shit?” The figure in the chair shuddered. “I don’t want to spit venom at you anymore. It makes me sick.”

“There’s a difference.” Sephiroth said slowly. “Between change and trying to please everyone. That's why I'm concerned. Moreover, we were both war criminals. When you have that title…what you say and do isn't a private thing. When you've killed…a considerable amount of people, peace is a privilege, not a right. And the people needed to see what I was saying and doing when I was titled interim General, it was the only way to gain any semblance of trust with the public. I fell in love with you because you’re passionate. And when say  _ passionate,  _ I don’t mean in the sense of cruelty...there’s a...distinct divide there…I appreciate the kindness in you, and I always have, but I also appreciate the part of you that will happily tell me to  _ ‘fuck off’  _ or tie Angeal’s shoelaces together while he’s in the shower, or recite Loveless to a chocobo for three hours straight to win two thousand gil or complain for thirty minutes about my blanket-stealing habits or tear the VR room to pieces because you lost an earring in the wiring system-” He appeared to become entirely discouraged and fell silent. 

“Sephiroth’s telling you to be yourself.” Vincent said calmly. “Essentially. There’s a...balance to be had...between lashing out and...altering yourself unnecessarily to fit into a mold. We’re not asking you to do that. You can keep the people you care about happy, yes, but it shouldn’t be to your own detriment.” He tilted his head. “And you’ll forgive me for saying this, but you involved Angeal and I when you came into our bedroom. I would have been perfectly happy to keep my opinions between the two of us so we could discuss them alone...as a couple.” He smiled somewhat, an exasperated smile that had his eyes turning down a little bit at the edges as onyx hair fell over one shoulder. “Believe it or not, I’m an old man. ‘Coddling’ either of you is the lowest priority on my list.” Crimson eyes cut to Sephiroth. “Though I’m not going to not take  _ care  _ of family when they happen to show up on my doorstep every few days.” 

“If it’s annoying I can stop.” The younger man muttered. 

“Don’t try to make this about you.” The older man said dryly.

Sephiroth scowled.

“Regardless, this is about the fact that I don’t need D-Vincent’s blessing to be with you.” He continued grumpily. “Or Angeal’s. Do you think I’d have given my blessing if he approached me and asked to date my _father?_” Angeal took a moment to consider the disturbing possibility as the General spoke. “No.” The silver-haired First continued flatly. “In case I really needed to answer that, I’d have told him to stick his sword somewhere questionable. And regardless of my feelings about it, they worked out. Good for them. But it’s not my business and it’s not Vincent’s business and it’s not Angeal’s business. They’re entitled to their opinions, and to sharing them, but it’s not going to change my perspective.” 

Silence stretched and yawned again in the room.

Obviously everyone was engrossed in contemplation, or so Angeal thought. But this was already too much for his sleep-deprived brain at the moment, and instead of thinking about the intricacies of the exchange, the General couldn’t help but smile at the scene that was meeting his eyes. 

All the people he cared about in one place. Sure, there were two other faces, or three even that he actually missed having around, but he was grateful.  _ Really grateful _ to have this. 

Genesis’ voice was the first one, as always, to pierce through the quiet; a sigh at first before actual words were formed. “You assume that I’d try to please everyone and that I haven’t considered what you’re telling me. Which are both wrong. I know you don’t like to hear this, but I don’t care about the people any more than I did before Omega fell. More than it being an attempt at saving the world, it was an attempt at suicide…because  _ she  _ told me that you were dead, and I couldn’t rationalize Sister Ray being fired twice-with your Corrupt Lifestream-without it leaving you dead.” 

“She?” Angeal uttered at the same time Sephiroth whispered ‘Jenova?’, but their mutual former comrade raised a hand.

“It’s all over now, at least, and let’s not get sidetracked here. I think people all can go fuck themselves if they don’t give you peace now, because in my opinion, it’s your right. And rest assured, I will tell you to fuck off and run Angeal through if he tries motherhenning me like he does you.” The grey-haired First wanted to voice his disagreement but his childhood friend droned onwards. “I am myself. And if I’m to stay around, I need you to stop questioning me and…” There was a gravid sigh, and Genesis seemed to struggle with himself, an auburn head tilted somewhat as though he was regarding the crimson-eyed man before finally adding at length. “Have a little faith in me...because for as long as I remember I’ve been trying to fight tooth and nail to earn that from you and ‘Geal, and it gets taxing after a while, you know.” 

Angeal didn’t stand around doing nothing while he listened to the conversation go on, preferring to start taking eggs and bread out of the refrigerator because it was just too early to do any sort of gourmet cooking.

It was again Genesis who continued. “I don’t think I would be able to fit myself into a mold even if my life depended on it, and it already involved Angeal and by proxy, you, so I don’t mind  _ hearing  _ your opinion. I asked for it, and I appreciate that you’re coddling Sephiroth because you have a lot to make up for Mr. Valentine.”

Choosing that exact moment to barge in on the conversation, the grey-haired First spoke over his shoulder. “Now that everything’s been cleared up and you’re jolly and merry and gay, I wouldn’t mind a hand. And I’m talking to all three of you. On your feet soldiers.”

“Like he’s the only person who’s been manipulated by Jenova.” Sephiroth was muttering angrily. 

Vincent hissed something possibly off-color-though mostly reprimanding-at his progeny under his breath. This was followed by a tense silence-and he could imagine father and son having an intense stare-down-before an explosive exhalation was uttered and the General muttered something about sparring-to which the older man hastily agreed, more than likely to shut him up-before there was the sound of people getting up and moving to the kitchen. His partner was the first to arrive, and while his expression was cheerful, there was a sad sort of weariness in his eyes that he could somewhat relate to. This was quickly veiled, and the older man took the bread from the countertop and immediately passed it to Sephiroth, who gave him a mullish look before beginning to slice it with a preciseness that was just on the definitional side of savage. Seeing this, the gunslinger turned back to Angeal to hide the fact that his lips were twitching as the blue-eyed First reached for the eggs. The General in interim’s pager chose that moment to go off and the silver-haired man ripped it from his belt with a single-minded sort of ferocity before looking like he’d like to either throw himself or the electronic device out the window. 

“Cancel it.” Vincent said promptly. “Whatever it is, it can wait.” 

Angeal pulled a ceramic bowl down from an upper cabinet, hunting around for a whisk before pouring a bit of milk and then cracking a generous amount of eggs into the clayware container. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the ex-Turk retrieved a pan and put it on the stove before taking down the salt and pepper and leaning against the countertop, fingers drumming idly. 

“Fine.” was the flat response as Sephiroth’s fingers tapped somewhat forcefully on the pager’s surface. “But I’m telling Reeve I fell into a vat of radioactive waste because he won’t take anything else.” 

Shoving the device back into his pocket, he returned to his attack on the bread. Vincent observed the younger man with a kind of stern consideration for a moment before flicking the oven on and turning to place a baking tray and a slice of butter in front of Genesis. Nodding at the bread, Angeal’s partner spoke.

“You can butter those, once he’s done performing surgery on them. If you like, in any case. I’ll put them in afterwards.” 

The gunslinger then retreated to stand by his lover again, one hand creeping around a bicep so pale fingers could curl in his shirt and find a hold. Angeal couldn’t resist the small but wholly affectionate smile tugging on his lips, or the slight blush dusting his cheeks as he ducked his head to gaze at the ex-Turk from the corner of his eyes; nudging him with his shoulder gently, at which his own smile turned into a grin. To his right, Genesis was observing their exchange with a rather cheeky expression before shaking an auburn head as he reached behind the two of them to take more bread slices from Sephiroth who was standing to their left.

“Hurry up Gen instead of stuffing your face.” Angeal muttered perfunctorily, and while he poured the mixture in the pan his partner had put on the oven, the crimson-eyed man moved to take the buttered bread from the redhead who was licking butter and breadcrumbs off his fingertips to the General’s longsuffering, half-hearted detestation. 

His part of the breakfast done, Angeal tugged on Sephiroth’s sleeve before nodding to the cupboard holding dishes while he made his own way toward the one holding glasses; plucking four, the grey-haired Banoran then made his way to the fridge to stuff a bottle of milk and one of orange juice in the crook of his arm. On his way out and glancing toward the stove where Genesis and his ebon-haired companion were silently dealing with the matter of cooking eggs and grilling the bread, Angeal decided to take a short detour to bury his head minutely in the waterfall of midnight-colored hair and place a kiss at the nape of his lover’s neck through the thick, silky mane.

The former Commander promptly started chortling, before muttering a “I can see what Sephiroth’s been suffering from.” as a head of red turned toward the living room where the aforementioned was setting up the table and unceremoniously sitting down on the chair that had come to be his during the time he’d been staying with them. “Someone’s hangry.” Genesis teased, to which he received an unintelligible grumble.

Putting down the assorted items he’d retrieved from around the kitchen, the grey-haired soldier too settled down; not realizing how much he’d needed it until his back hit the backrest of his chair, and it was hard not to lean his head back and let out a sigh-groan of satisfaction.

Their early breakfast was eaten in a comfortable sort of silence. All respective parties were either too sleep-deprived or too hungover to be conversational which seemed to serve the purpose. Though the silver-haired individual seemed to have decided to perform the part of the youngest of their quartet to the best and have a sparring session with his food on the table as he ate in a grumpy sulky manner. Witnessing such behavior, Angeal immediately decided that once everything had been removed from the tabletop, he was going to shoo his partner’s son and his lover out so they could finally enjoy their unforeseen but totally welcome off day. 

“We can spar tomorrow.” Vincent said quietly, as if unconsciously echoing the younger man’s thoughts. 

Sephiroth’s face turned instantly blank. Shoving his plate away, he stood and took it to the sink without a backward glance. 

“That’s fine.” He replied, his tone idle but his posture unforgiving. “I’ll find someone else in the evening. Thanks for breakfast.”

He then disappeared into the washroom and there was the tell-tale sound of the shower running. The man in question’s sire sighed and took a bite of toast before evidently giving it up for a lost cause. Leaning one elbow on the table, the ex-Turk ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes, dark lashes brushing his cheeks before he appeared to catch himself; abruptly sitting back and rising as well...onyx locks falling in a river over his back. Putting a hand on Angeal’s shoulder, he leaned down to kiss his cheek. 

“I’m going to bed.” He murmured. Glancing at Genesis, he nodded. “It was good to see you.” 

The older man followed his son’s steps to the kitchen and washed his tableware before setting it in a drying rack. With another tired glance at the pair of them, he swept into the rear hallway and the door to the bedroom swung open before shutting once more, leaving the two of them.

The redhead-who was so similar to his childhood friend and yet so different in ways that made him wonder whether it was going to turn out for better or for worse in the end-was silently finishing up the meager amount of food he’d placed on his plate. 

“You’re welcome here whenever you want to come over Genesis.” Pushing his plate away, Angeal continued with a reassuring yet weary smile. “I’d like to come over and visit your place some time, but until then, both Vincent and I’d be happy to have you here.” Running a hand through his hair as the former Commander opened his mouth to answer, the General added. “I know you said you don’t need anything, but my offer to provide for you still stands.” When Genesis seemed like he might lob his head off for even insinuating that he’d be unable to do that himself, Angeal added unanimously. “In case of unforeseen events.”

With a smirk, the blue-eyed ex-SOLDIER stood up, reaching out for the grey-haired First’s plate as he quietly replied. “Thank you, ‘Geal.” Taking the proffered dishware, his former comrade added. “Thank you for being beside him, and my apology earlier was meant for you as well.” There was the clink of dishes, and a hand squeezed his shoulder. “And I will,” The redhead’s sharp features softened with the shadow of a smile dancing on cerise lips. “I’ll clean up, and if I can persuade Sephiroth to come with me, we’ll leave once he’s done. Go back to bed old man.”

Not letting the well-intended yet brutally honest remark upset him, Angeal beamed before leaning on the table and getting up. “Thank you, you two make sure to deal with all this year-old baggage between you, alright? And whatever happened, Vincent and I support both of you and your decisions.” Patting the older man on his shoulder, the grey-haired General continued. “I hope I’ve helped create a world where you can freely love each other.”

And if Genesis’ fingers tightened in his shirt above his shoulder the Banoran didn’t move to do anything about; or even when a ghost of a familiar emotion passed over azure irises. The redhead quickly moved away, and so did Angeal; even though there was a voice telling him that he could have pulled his friend that was as close as a brother to him in an embrace. That he might regret not doing anything later, but the moment was lost, and there was nothing he could do about it anymore as the the acoustic of the sink running joined that of the shower. Retracing his lover’s steps to their bedroom, he closed the door behind him, finding the oldest of them lying under the coverlets, not facing the door. As quietly as the shuffling of his clothes allowed, he settled on the bed, crawled under the sheets before moving to lie on his side at his partner’s back while his fingers dove in the ebony tresses pooling on the pillow. 

When he did so, the lithe body against him arched slightly before the older man turned to face him; one arm looping around the grey-haired First’s waist as crimson eyes observed him sleepily. Sanguine lips parted somewhat as those scarlet irises considered what was before them before Vincent drew him into a kiss. Long fingers came up to brush over the stubble on his cheeks and Angeal let one hand fall to grasp the jut of a hip bone as his partner’s breath became somewhat ragged before he pulled away. The gunslinger’s visage was slightly flushed as he did so, a slight smolder in his expression as he bit his lower lip before apparently thinking better of it. 

“I love you.” was the murmured phrase. “Try to get some sleep.” 

Smiling, Angeal brushed that river of dark hair back from a pale forehead; bestowing a kiss upon it as he did so.

“I love you too.” He murmured. “So,  _ so  _ much.” 


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Tenuous. 

That was really the only word he could use to describe his current state of mind. Sitting in the bay window of Genesis’ apartment, Sephiroth frowned and let his hair fall forward to shield his face. He was never fully comfortable in the space...not because of who was in it, but because of where it was. There wasn’t any particular resentment in him for the edge of the Upper Plate, but he didn’t like the overall feel of it...the atmosphere. Though-in retrospect-maybe that was simply because he was used to what he was used to. His personal quarters in HQ were far away from where his old ones had been, closer to the cafeteria and much more open. He’d taken his cue from Genesis’ old apartment and chosen one with a balcony. This choice was made during the initial weeks of his assignment as General in interim, and it had let him feel more relaxed...knowing that he could escape from two ends of his living quarters. Unlike the redhead’s old accommodations they weren’t....red. 

He’d gone for a neutral theme; pale colors with plants here and there that Angeal threw in whenever he thought he could sneak one in while he was away. Which was a lot. An entire corner of his balcony was devoted to various climbing plants and most of his living space was inundated with splashes of green against pearl, grey, or black. He cared for them because he had to or Vincent started giving him evil looks whenever Angeal entered the room, saw a wilted plant and looked like he was going to wilt himself.

Most of his amenities were imported from Wutai, because his brain had kept playing over Genesis speaking in Wutain and he wanted to memorialize it without grieving over his death. As a result, most of his flooring was wooden and his bed was a tatami bed with a shiki futon. The minute Angeal had laid eyes on it, he’d rushed out to buy bamboo from who knows where and proceeded to fill the right corner of the bedroom with it. There were times when Sephiroth felt like he was living in a jungle. Vincent confessed that his efficiency wouldn’t fit him for much longer if he ever felt like going back because the blue-eyed First was determined to turn the entirety of Shinra into some type of greenhouse. 

Since Genesis’ return, the General in interim had been sent on his periodic visits with a ridiculous amount greens-much to the redhead’s sincere horror-and he had a sneaking suspicion that the older man had started giving them away due to the sheer amount he tended to arrive with. Sephiroth put his foot down at flowers, because he was severely allergic to the majority of flowers and he was not going to show up for a ‘date’ with watering eyes and a nose like a faucet. It was humiliating enough to show up with what amounted to a vanful of vegetation only to have said vegetation vanish in slow increments throughout the course of the week. 

There was also food.

Vincent-apparently-thought neither of them could cook. So he also sent Sephiroth with food, though this only happened perhaps once a week. But it was the sheer  _ amount  _ of food that he sent. The first time the silver-haired man had shown up at his door with six large containers of tupperware Genesis had taken one look and quietly shut the door in his face. This had lead to a very awkward conversation in which the younger man had to explain that  _ he  _ hadn’t prepared any of it because he thought that the former Commander couldn’t cook. He was simply the unfortunate bearer of bad banquets. They had somewhat of a laugh over it, and it was good, so he didn’t complain too much when the gunslinger shoved a meal into his hands every week and told him to ‘have fun.’ Other than that, the two men kept their distance fairly well, and he was somewhat grateful.  _ Somewhat.  _ Because things were different between him and Genesis whether he wanted them to be or not. Inwardly, he wasn’t much different. He was still conversationally stilted and extremely awkward but he was also inundated with work. He wasn’t entirely sure if this was a point of contention between them but when he had to rush off because a senior executive had managed to completely botch a regulatory conference with a foreign dignitary he sensed that it wasn’t exactly a positive thing either.

Their rapport was also different. 

Sephiroth was-habitually-a creature of combat. So when he came in and talked about the VR room or combat training with the recruits he got a somewhat patient but shuttered look. Sometimes, it left him at a loss, because it was what they had talked about often before...that and paperwork. But the monumental volume of paperwork he received was not a good subject for dinner conversation. He made an attempt to focus on leisure instead, on things that both of them were interested in, but it had occurred to him very recently that his schedule didn’t have a lot of room for leisure. Making time was a challenge, but he managed it fairly well, and the effort was worth it. They went out sometimes...though rarely. 

With Genesis being reluctant to reveal his identity to the public, their destinations were few. Sometimes they wandered, sometimes they got something to eat. The media didn’t pay Sephiroth much attention anymore; once you were a mass murderer your status as a ‘hero’ was somewhat null and void. His official title was ‘reformist’, but no one thought that that was particularly glamorous, so any potential news about them was nonexistent. The public acknowledged his existence and his work in terms of the city, but that was it. Lack of a very complex media component made things like tabloids obsolete in any case. People got most of their news from the radio, and stations that were able to stay on air after the power grid crashed were few and far between. 

Sephiroth also made time for himself.

That in of itself was a strange thing, but it wasn’t unpleasant. He went out mostly during the morning and evening hours; usually once a week but more if he could manage it. It was a little bit bizarre, to be alone in a city of so many people, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. The General made a point of spending some of his time surreptitiously browsing curio shops that opened just after sunrise. He didn’t have a knack for fashion or decor, but he liked simplistic things...things that caught your eye just enough that they stood out without making too large a statement. And it was nice to find things that he liked outside of what he’d always been used to. The green-eyed First came home with a strip of tempered metal that he hung over his headboard-just slightly obscured by the bamboo-a large furoshiki, and a black maneki-neko that he kept in a drawer to spare himself the humiliation of a house guest finding it. When he wasn’t catering to his strange and sudden interest in obscure house items, he could usually find someplace unique to eat lunch. There was a sandwich shop just a ways down from HQ that was willing to hand him a wrap out the back window for free, and Tseng had recommended a hole-in-the-wall sushi restaurant that was fairly decent. 

Shifting slightly, Sephiroth eyed the array of ferns he’d brought along this time with a distinct feeling of distaste. He wasn’t entirely sure what Angeal’s aim was in all of this, but he had a feeling that maybe he was gently teasing Genesis with full knowledge that the older man would give the plants away. Fingering a wristband he’d bought at a furugiya, he grimaced before stretching. He’d sat down with the full intention of taking a nap. The redhead was-as far as he knew-absorbed in a book he’d bought the other day and they were situated in a comfortable sort of silence. Letting his eyelids droop somewhat, the silver-haired Soldier settled back into his seat and let the warmth of the morning sun seep through his clothes. He’d had a late night...and they’d talked about going out for breakfast but neither of them seemed to be able to garner the motivation to move towards the door. 

There was something indistinguishable playing on the radio on the kitchen counter. He didn’t recognize the composition, but it was something soft and somewhat somnolent. They’d never really talked about that before either. The type of music they liked, their preferences in terms of simple things. And it was-one would think-something they would already know about each other, but it wasn’t really something Sephiroth had ever known about himself. Thinking back, he couldn’t recall really having a preference for movies or television shows either...though neither of those things really interested him much more now. He had taken an interest in a few publications that offered information about different fighting styles before he and Genesis had begun their relationship, but it wasn’t a vested interest and most of it was speculative compared to what the Soldier program required recruits to do. 

As he exhaled, green eyes peeked out from silver-wreathed lids and he resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to get any sleep in no matter how much he might want to. Standing, he glanced back momentarily-making sure the pillows were back in their respective places-before wandering through the living room and into the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat. Genesis peeked over the top of his book as he did so, and he favored him with a small smile before continuing on to his destination...his focus entirely concentrated on his digestive system, which appeared to be screaming at him. It was comfortable, that much was certain. And maybe this was what they needed, to have some semblance of lives...of identities before starting something. There were times when he wished that one or both of them had bothered to consider the fact that neither of them were really individualists when Shinra was still corrupt. And it was good to have work, but it wasn’t good to have work to the point where everything else seemed like an oddity...like something separate from what you were. 

There was the snap of a book being shut, but the silver-haired man was busy taking one of the numerous tupperwares-marked with his father’s handwriting about the contents-out of the freezer to put into the microwave to defrost. Peeling the sticky note off, there was a rustle of clothes, and he could feel rather than see Genesis smiling, in that playful manner he did when he was up to no good, as the muted pad of bare feet gave away the direction his partner was walking.

Placing his meal inside, Sephiroth reminisced about the time the redhead had called him while the General had been working late in order to lessen the mountain of paperwork on his desk, informing him that he was inside some shop, receiving weird looks from people while looking for the microwave currently whirring softly in front of him. He hadn’t gotten much work done during and after the call simply due to the former Commander keeping him on the line for the entirety of his little shopping spree that hadn’t taken that long at all. They hadn’t talked really, mostly exchanged short curt replies or listened to the ambience of static on the other side of the line before the redhead had had to hang up to talk to some salesperson and then the register as he’d explained.

Glancing up from the aforementioned device to regard his lover, he was greeted with a minute furrowing of red brows as Genesis made his sure, yet leisurely way towards him. Neither of them seemed keen on breaking the quiescence, the shrill yet brief beep of the microwave-signifying the end of its job-wasn’t too jarring either. Pressing the start button for a warm-up program on the screen, Sephiroth found arms wrapping around his torso from behind, and soon he was being inexorably pulled against a warm chest; his lover crooned something soft and nonsensical before burning lips were pressed over the fabric covering his shoulder blade. 

“I can hear it, you know.” There was a soft chuckle as the General tilted his head to query the meaning of those words with an emerald gaze; the melodious voice was slightly muffled and somewhat rough with sleep and disuse. “The gears in that  _ brilliant _ head of yours. What’s the matter?”

It was a testament to his partner’s ability to flatter that Sephiroth flushed with the statement. Pressing into the body behind him somewhat, he found his meal was somewhat less of a priority than he thought it was. Of course there was this...this intimacy. And that at least was no different. Because they could still find each other in the nuances of touch, in the methodology of speech without speech. In time, he’d realized that they’d always been that way; that when verbalization failed they turned to physical reciprocation. It wasn’t to do with the fact that they were only attracted to each other aesthetically, it was more the fact that sometimes gestures spoke better or in greater volumes than what they could say. 

“How long do you think it’ll take before the tenants figure out it’s you leaving plants on their doorsteps?” He asked idly, pulling his food out of the microwave. 

It was hard to say  _ exactly  _ what was on his mind. There were too many things; a cluster of coagulated thoughts that never seemed to sort themselves out no matter how hard he tried. Lately, he’d been wondering if they mattered, if looking so much into things was to his detriment. He was always mentally overwrought, always turning things over that really had nothing to give in the end. Not that that was how he viewed their relationship; only that he kept looking for issues that weren’t there. And he knew it was unfair to think that way, to always keep questioning the older man no matter what perspective he managed to twist himself into at the beginning of every day. Maybe they’d needed this...this sense of maturity and distance to really appreciate each other. Because it was all well and good to be attached to each other’s vambraces, but temperance was a harder thing...sometimes it could be mistaken for disinterest when really it was just a state of being comfortable. Maybe he just wasn’t used to  _ being  _ comfortable. Pulling a plate down, he gestured at the cabinet above him and then to the tupperware. 

“Are you hungry?” 

Detangling himself from the silver-haired General, his lover brushed up beside him to pluck another plate. Before Sephiroth could move away to take their food along with two pairs of forks and spoons, a kiss was pressed to a corner of his lips; chaste but fierce enough to give him pause for an infinitesimal moment, but a moment nonetheless in which his lover’s fingers brushed along his and took the tupperware before pulling away just as abruptly as he’d drawn close. There was a bounce to Genesis’ step as he sauntered away from him toward the living room, tweaking with the radio on his way so the music that had been playing was discernibly louder; though just enough to fill the small flat and change the atmosphere. 

It was something with a slow tempo. The green-eyed General wasn’t really knowledgeable when it came to differentiating genres from one another but in a moment of creative overconfidence, he ventured to guess it as some sort of soft rock. Striding after his redheaded lover, he acknowledged that the older man’s apartment lacked a lot of amenities for a brief instant, which at the moment consisted of a couple of dining chairs so they could sit comfortably behind the counters instead of sitting on the couch-or in the numerous previous occasions in Genesis’ case-on the floor by the coffee table. Just as he was contemplating whether he could comment on it or not, the aforementioned man pivoted on his heel, walking backwards to flash a mysterious smile at the General before putting down their meal and the plates he’d snatched on the table. 

“If that was an attempt at changing the subject,” Ivory fingers plucked the tableware and cutlery from Sephiroth’s hands and soon they followed the ones his partner had carried to the table. “I’m quite disappointed.” Same digits encircled his wrists, fingertips tracing along his palm as the blue-eyed ex-soldier intertwined their fingers, placing Sephiroth’s other hand on a lean waist as the former Commander gradually pulled up close until they were almost chest to chest. “What’s bothering you, Seph?” The individual in front of him started swaying languidly to the music, the back of pale knuckles brushing the side of Sephiroth’s face before his bangs were tucked behind his ear after which a warm palm settled on the apex where his shoulder met his neck. With affectionate yet observing azure irises gazing at him, the redhead’s sanguine lips parted in a quiet query. “Is it us?”

Tilting his head, the silver-haired soldier allowed a wan smile to grace his lips. Because as good as his partner was at reading him, he was equally good at distracting him simultaneously. Clearing his throat, he spoke. 

“...No.” He said hesitantly. When a crimson brow rose in consternation, he flushed somewhat. “It's  _ not.  _ I'm just... adjusting. Which means I'm taking the long way around in getting to know the terrain.” The General in interim grimaced slightly. “You know how my mind works.” He continued quietly. “I have to... overanalyze everything before I accept it. It's just how I am.”

Exhaling, the younger man let his head drop until it was resting in the crook of Genesis’ neck. And again...the familiarity; the scent of him...the strong nuance of his heartbeat. And he wanted to stay there, in that quiet space; where things weren't so tumultuous and changeable. He reflected-somewhat bitterly-that while his time alone over the past year had made him stronger...it had also made him less...accustomed to this. Less anchored to the idealisms of affection. Angeal and Vincent were different...because the emotion behind his feelings towards them wasn’t so much romantic as it was parental. And Sephiroth was fairly sure he’d jump off a cliff if he ever uttered the singular truth that Angeal was a parental figure out loud, but it bore acknowledging mentally. No, he was more afraid of this...of love...because when he had loved before he had lost; he had always lost and come ‘round to the beginning empty-handed and breathless and aching and he was  _ terrified  _ of that happening again. 

Sephiroth was tired of being left bereft.

It was such an empty feeling; like staring out onto a battlefield after the bodies and the spoils had been dragged away. Like looking at a barren, charred, foggy landscape wrought in nothing but pain and acknowledging that he hadn’t been enough to stop such waste from occurring. All the planning, the promises, the lives put on the line to preserve something so infinitely precious were wasted in what seemed like a gasp of linear time...and for what? For more death? The green-eyed First felt his brow furrow, felt the flux of his breath as he raised one arm to cup Genesis’ elbow, as the quiet dread of it seemed to shiver through him before he managed to fight it down. And the frown that graced his lips wasn’t so much a frown as it was a downturn of the lips...as much as it brought hot pinpricks to his eyes because he didn’t know what to  _ do.  _ He wanted Genesis...that much was clear...but he didn’t want him only to have to lose him again...because whenever they were together, it always seemed to happen; and it happened in a way that he was helpless to stop...like his existence within it was so meaningless that he was simply the catalyst in a dark reaction of inevitability. 

“I love you.” Unsteady, muffled by fabric, weighed down with how much they had born...and it occurred to him that it was the first time he had said it and meant it. Not that he hadn’t meant it before, but it was the first time he was entirely cognizant of what he was saying instead of giving the older man a habitual response. “I  _ love  _ you.” He repeated, and the fear that came with the declaration was a tremulous thing...borne on the wings of a vulnerability that made it seem like falling. “I’m sorry Genesis, _ I love you. _ ” 

The fingers laced with his let go, but only to come up and brush the silvery mane at his back aside so a fiery mouth could press a kiss on his neck. Genesis drew him closer, and the realization that they hadn’t embraced like this for a long time was suddenly very jarring… Individually intimate...and Sephiroth hadn’t really acknowledged how much he had missed it…how the older man’s physicality always felt like his completing puzzle piece, how those angular hard-soft features meshed with his…

Slender, artistic fingers were carding through his hair, trimmed nails gently scraping against his scalp that was soothing and strangely grounding; strange because he’d never thought he’d put Genesis and grounding together in the same sentence, because with his fiery lover everything was tumultuous, ever changing. 

“ _ I’m here now… _ ” was a soft murmur. “ _ I love you… I love you so much… _ ” A deep inhale, and Sephiroth couldn’t stop the shudder that trembled down his spine. “I’m sorry too.” A nervous chuckle. “I’m just the most terrible lover you could ask for, and…” A gravid pause, long enough to take away the minute humor of the somewhat happy sound. “I know… I’m really  _ really _ bad with promises, but I will never stop loving you Sephiroth.”

“You’re not a terrible lover.” The younger man muttered. “We just seem to be terrible at starting over.” He swallowed thickly. “Though, really, the fact that we always seem to  _ have  _ to start over doesn’t exactly seem fair...but it’s no one’s fault.” 

Surrender was a hard thing.

And again, it wasn’t because he was particularly surrendering to anyone...or maybe he was. Realistically, he was surrendering to himself; the part of him that wanted this. And the part that didn’t was only resistant because of simple cowardice...and that wasn’t an excuse to push something so tangible away. And it was cruel to have such a singularly fearful viewpoint, but Sephiroth had never been kind in the face of the unknown. And he wished-wholeheartedly-that his cruelty wasn’t so basely veiled under tactics and logic...but sometimes that was the only way he knew how to communicate anything. His year dealing with himself had taught him otherwise, but when it came to Genesis his psyche seemed to fold in on itself, seemed to panic in the worst ways and to hell with whoever he dragged down with him. And maybe he had spent too much time looking for the summer in all things he considered positive...those things were few and far between. Cherishable facets of longevity had to weather all seasons...had to mature in the fall and grow dormant in the winter only to burst forth come spring. It was a bit cliche...a bit simple-minded but for all that he was complex he  _ longed  _ for simplicity because he never seemed to be able to grasp it. 

Closing his eyes, he let one hand rise to card through scarlet locks, memorizing the already-memorized feel of thick strands under and over his fingertips. Letting the arm in question dip, he let his palm trail down his lover’s back to settle at the base of his lover’s spine; digits splayed wide. 

“You’re not terrible.” He whispered. “You’re not inferior; I’ve told you I think you’re brilliant. Sometimes...I think I let that get lost in translation. I don’t need your promises, I just need to accept things as they are...day by day. And it’s not fair to you that I disregard your feelings attempting to find that balance, but I want you to know it has nothing to do with whether you’re enough.” Sephiroth let his lips brush over the soft hollow under a pale earlobe. “You’ve always been enough.” 

The hand in his hair stilled as Genesis shivered, and before long, there was a warm hand on the side of his face; the to-and-fro brush of a thumb persuading him to raise his head to find a pair of azure eyes swirling with so much emotion… The silver-haired General couldn’t help but mirror the gesture, hesitatingly, but soon the soft familiar texture of ivory damask was underneath his fingertips. He wanted to give voice to the vociferation in his head that was in the shape of the name of his lover, because somehow saying it out loud gave it more meaning...made it more tangible...more true and real; wanted to call him beautiful as much as he believed the redheaded individual to be brilliant. But then those scarlet-wreathed lids slowly fluttered closed, and there was the tremulous rush of breath ghosting over his lips.

“ _ Sephiroth… _ ”

Moist, soft, burning lips, and so very Genesis… As he pulled the older man close with the hand he’d splayed at the base of his spine, the former Commander looped his arms around Sephiroth’s neck; lithe physicality undulating against his like the slow flutter of a flame in the breeze… And there was no need for any cues for the nuance of their kiss to deepen, to become open-mouthed, sensual, and languidly passionate. The slow brush of a tongue against his before it quickly disappeared and the General sucked on a plush lower lip instead; a soft nip, and the muted moan he was rewarded with was a saccharine wave. 

He would never get tired of the feeling of the lithe body beneath his palms; the bunch and curl of musculature...the nuance of breath. Letting his mouth search along flushed vermillion, Sephiroth reveled in the tangibility of it...in the reciprocative echoes of passion that seemed to bubble up from the core of his being which burst forth like a flower blooming under the sun. They held their pace for a while, kept it easy and slow...like the ebb of a gentle breeze over a windswept plane. And his physicality hearkened to it; to the hiss of the carnal fire that swirled between them until he wanted to rush it...until he  _ ached  _ to take his fill because this was familiar and it was  _ good.  _ At the same time, he wanted to give this time...wanted to do more than let his words be the evidence of his affection. So the younger man pushed such thoughts down, shoved them somewhere hidden and focused on what was before him. 

Lifting the hand at his partner’s spine, he let it trail down the older man’s side...let his fingers bunch in the fabric of his shirt before letting go. And when Genesis’ tongue returned to offer ingress he took it; bit lightly before meeting it with his own until the retreat was just as swift. Slow...occasionally punctuated with distracted haste, and when his mouth found the underside of the redhead’s jaw they both shuddered. It was acknowledged that-while careful-this didn’t need to be something spun out...merely something cherished. So when a somewhat breathless, lilting moan was the result of him finding that erogenous zone between collar and clavicle, the silver-haired soldier couldn’t help the gentle smile that spread across his face...couldn’t help the flush that lightly dusted his cheeks as the older man arched into him; as he gave evidence to his pleasure by grinding the hard jut of his erection against his. 

Genesis’ hands plunged between the fabric of his shirt and his back, fingertips brands of fire against his skin despite being barely there, akin to the tickle of a feather. Sephiroth latched onto that point on his lover’s neck, kissing it; and the redhead threw his head back, bared his throat for more adulation… The silver-haired man sucked, the pale skin blooming red roses, just to feel the vibration heralding that velvety voice curling around a throaty groan against his lips. Another languorous grind but this time more urgent, and his partner’s fingers dug in, hard enough for the press of the nails to become apparent before seemingly thinking better and instead trailing lower in firm strokes of strong palms… Smirking softly, the General took that opportunity to cradle the back of the older man’s head, tugging on strands the hue of fire. His other hand descended then, breached the waistband of his former comrade’s pants to wrap around the burning apex of his desire.

Genesis hissed, bucked into his hand, back arching like a strung bow… and there was something beyond words about the way that gorgeous, resilient physicality was pliant in his palms…something strong and yet trembling in acknowledging that he had the power to rob the older man of every ounce of control his lover was so hellbent on exercising all the time… And whether it was that realization that brought him down to his knees in front of the redhead, or his desire to let his actions echo the meaning his words might have been lacking in, Sephiroth didn’t know… Gazed up at hooded cerulean eyes watching him with a strange look… Awe, reverence, adoration, affection… And it was only in Genesis’ presence that he felt like a god and no one at all at the same time… 

His fingers hooked around the elastic and tugged, his partner’s pants falling and pooling around pale ankles. His lover’s digits settled over his hair gently, carding through the strands tentatively, reverently, as cerise lips parted in the quietest of susurrations…

“ _ I adore y _ -...” 

Sephiroth loved how that breath hitched then, caught in the pearlescent arc of a slender yet strong neck as he enveloped the older man’s arousal with his mouth. 

There was a rhythmic quality to oral. He reflected on this as he took the length of Genesis into him...as he let the bulk of his desire slide over his tongue. Quiet, focused, and yet somehow still sultry; the essence of it was wrought in taste...in the heartbeat thrumming over his palate. The redhead’s hips jerked somewhat and the General let one of his hands rise in order to steady him; let his fingers trace the arc of a trembling coxal region before taking hold with a gentle yet firm grip. Slow... _ deep  _ until the former Commander was fully settled, until Sephiroth could feel the head of the blue-eyed ex-soldier’s cock nudging the back of his throat. He swallowed reflexively, fought not to smirk when the older man’s breath hissed through his teeth. Letting his gaze flicker upwards he lowered silver-wreathed lids...shivered inside when those cerise lips parted in an expression of hunger that was just on the right side of unhinged. Satisfied for the moment, the silver-haired First drew back somewhat-kept it gradual and teasing-descended once more before drawing upwards and off. Spitting perfunctorily into his palm; he gripped the heft of his lover’s need, let his tongue flicker over the head before running it down the vein on the underside...revelling in the pulse that jumped to meet his descent. Several times he repeated the process, until the air between them was thrumming with carnal fire.

Tightening his grip on Genesis’ hip, he returned to his original focus; swallowed him down and again paused, let the older man adjust before beginning a steady rhythm. His now-free hand ventured slightly, found the alabaster curve of a taut backside and squeezed idly. Silver spilled between them as his head bobbed, as he lost himself in the tempo of it; as the ache between his own thighs grew almost unbearable. Because it was just as good to give as it was to be given...or so he had found. And the litany of sensual utterances falling from the scarlet-haired ex-soldier’s lips was music to his ears...the hand in his hair tugging slightly before fingernails dragged just slightly over his scalp. Fuel to his flame...a storm to his sea and he moaned without really thinking about it; felt the vibration of it in his throat even as the redhead tensed beneath his fingers and on his tongue. 

“Fuck…” a tremulous whisper, a scarlet head thrown back as the fingers in his hair tightened almost enough for it to be painful before the redhead seemed to become cognizant-if only for a moment-to loosen his hold. A glassy-eyed and hungry blue gaze locked with his before that ravishing rubicund mouth parted, soundless at first, before his name passed through its part. 

“ _ Seph…Seph... _ ”

Urgent.

And again it was hard to keep the smirk back from pulling his lips, but he persevered, kept at his rhythm and built it up, faster, and the musculature underneath his grasp grew taut; Genesis bucked forward before he could steady him, chasing the sensation of his mouth, the velvety engorged head hitting the back of his throat for an infinitesimal moment which made his eyes water while he observed his lover coming undone above him: back bowed, eyes pressed shut, and his mouth forming around a faint, stuttered ‘Gods--s…’ before pearl white teeth bit down on a kiss-swollen lower lip, and then, the former Commander was coming. Sephiroth took it because there wasn’t really much else he could do, but also because there was an obscene thrill to it. Taking the redhead to the hilt, the silver-haired man swallowed his seed and basked in the almost-desperate groan he received in response. He sucked until it was clear he was just on the edge of making it painful before drawing back and standing. Blazing beryl eyes met dazed sapphire ones as he claimed the bow of those perfect lips and thrust his tongue between them; letting his partner taste the lingering echoes of his own release.

And the General was achingly hard between them; the jut of his erection digging into the flexure of a pale hip as he plundered his companion’s mouth. Rutting up against the firm body before him he gave evidence to his arousal, caught the former Commander’s hand and brought it to the tent in his fatigues; pressed his palm into it even as he pushed his hips forward. Sephiroth let his head drop to rest on a firm shoulder, tilted it just-so in order to watch those pale fingers splay against dark fabric. A squeeze, and he had to bite off the groan that threatened to escape through his lips, had to nip at the ivory curve of a proud jaw even as he undulated into the movement. 

“Gen…” 

Sephiroth could feel rather see the lazy smirk on Genesis’ still euphoric features as his lover’s slender digits rubbed along the hard line of his erection, grabbing at the head before releasing it to palm the length of his still clothed arousal. 

“ _ Mmmm. _ ” was the seductive sultry vocalization before the redhead slowly mirrored his position from minutes ago, kneeling in front of him and gazing up at him with hooded, hungry eyes. The older man made a show of parting his lips, a hint of a pale tongue brushing over his upper lip as cerulean irises were hidden for an infinitesimal moment under bows of auburn lashes. “ _ You’re soaking through your pants. _ ” 

Breathy, and Sephiroth really didn’t get the chance to contemplate the meaning behind those words because the former Commander ducked his head, and promptly started mouthing along his hard-on. Hands splayed wide over hips, gripping him firmly as an index and middle finger crooked inside the waistband of his pants, teasingly dragging it down in increments that were just too small.

“Tell me…” a rebellious blue gaze as Genesis’ lips hovered above the wet tent of his fatigues. “What do you want me to do, General Sephiroth  _ sir _ ?” The salacious curve of sanguine lips before they returned to his clothed cock; burning hot and there was the faint hint of a moist adroit tongue...but too faint...not enough at all.

He was entirely incapable of thinking straight.

What with those blazing ocean-colored irises locked with his own; the pressure in his groin, the younger man wasn’t entirely positive whether he was standing up or lying down. And Genesis was the picture of gloriousness, all teasing magnificence, fiery hair and a smirking mouth. Swallowing, the silver-haired soldier attempted to gather his scattered thoughts, formulated the plea that was forming inside of his mind before giving it voice.

“I want your mouth” He muttered. “On me.” 

If passionate looks could kill, he would have been dead ages ago.

As it was, his partner graced him with one of such fervor his knees grew weak. The fingers in the waistband of his fatigues flexed again before sliding inwards somewhat, tugging the fabric away until only the head of his arousal was exposed; flushed and weeping, suddenly chilly with the absence of clothes pressed against it. This was ameliorated by his lover’s mouth; or rather, the breath coming from it. Because Genesis didn’t acquiesce to his plea immediately. Instead, he played...brought his lips but a hair's breadth away before retreating, once-twice-three times, and Sephiroth was  _ shivering  _ for it. Each time he did, the smugness in that expression deepened, became something utterly debauched and licentious. And when his hips finally gave in, when he finally jerked forward-somewhat desperately-the soft  _ ‘tsk’  _ that fell from that mouth was a purr against heated flash.

Fingers dragged his pants down, but that was all they did, and Genesis drew back, sat back on his heels and gazed up at him; red-wreathed eyelids dropped to half-mast and fluttered open slowly as a pink tongue licked the vermillion of a lower lip. Ivory fingers disappeared in the mouth he’d requested to be on him, but apparently he was currently being denied. Scowling slightly, Sephiroth was just about to voice his annoyance but then, slick fingers curled around his cock, a thumb brushing his frenulum before pressing against the slit, and just as abruptly a hot moist mouth was upon him. His breath escaped him in a hiss, his hand tangling in unruly auburn tresses of its own accord as he jerked forward, caught himself, but when his lover hollowed his cheeks and sucked, the General was helpless but to buck forward yet again. The name that had been on his tongue rolled off as a quiet groan which was answered with a moan trembling up his erection and pooling in the aching pool of pleasure in his gut. 

Chancing a glance downwards, red eyebrows furrowed for a moment before the older man took him in deep, hot steady spurts of breath dancing over his heated skin like summer breeze. Genesis’ free hand covered his on his fiery head, tapped against the back of his palm before dropping between his legs. It took Sephiroth a long moment to realize what his lover had meant, especially when the rhythmic up and down, in and out movement slowed down. Tugging gently on soft silky strands, the General pushed against the velvety tongue brushing along his cock and further in, dictating the pace; a throaty groan was ripped from him as the head of his erection hit the back of his partner’s throat, Genesis moaning with him in unison. 

Like heated silk...his mouth. A warm, wet oasis drawing him in and sending him spiraling into a multi-faceted abyss. And it was a testament to the difference in their skill sets that the redhead could keep pace, that he could hold steady against the rhythm he established and then kept with a frantic...infinitely thin thread of restraint. Sephiroth tilted his head to observe, felt his lips part as the breath between them became ragged and distracted. Because Genesis took it  _ beautifully,  _ with a poised yet somehow affectionate willingness that wasn’t submission at all...in reality it was  _ power  _ that gave him such thrall...an ethereal sort of effervescence wrought in an act that might otherwise have seemed subservient. As much as he was getting, the silver-haired soldier understood that he was not in control...not in the slightest. 

It was magnificent. 

Another suck and he realized with a delirious sort of acknowledgement that he wasn’t going to last very long at all. He could slow down to watch...temper his pace so that he could witness the sight of his erection sliding in and out of a flushed mouth but it wasn’t going to do him any good. The tightening at the base of his spine was a clear herald to the-frankly-dizzying approach of his climax and he attempted to reign it back. Seeming to sense this, long fingers danced across his perineum, pressed down and he mumbled something garbled and incoherent. Clever digits slid backwards...formed a ‘V’ over the ischiopubic ramus... idly...lazily and the scarlet haze that rose to cover his vision was a wash of rubicund. He wanted to say something-wanted to plead for it-though he wasn’t entirely sure what, and then the tips of distal phalanges were rubbing against the hot furl of his entrance, Genesis sucked, and he couldn’t  _ think,  _ couldn’t-!

_ Bliss... _

He came with a hoarse, abbreviated shout, thrust deep and rode the shock of it as it thundered up his spine. And his hand was a little too tight in that head of beautiful scarlet hair but he took a moment to realize it before letting go. Sephiroth wanted to sag, wanted to collapse to the floor with his partner but he restrained himself out of a sense of propriety, let his fingers card apologetically through crimson strands as he came down from it. 

_ “Genesis…” _

Dexterous fingers plucked his from silky tresses to bring the palm of his hand to that amazing mouth. The younger man somewhat went with it, slowly knelt on the ground as Genesis placed a kiss on the center of his palm before wandering lower and bestowing the same sentiment on the underside of his wrist. Vaguely, the General felt himself smile with an unprecedented amount of happiness, cradled and caressed the side of his lover’s face as those scarlet eyelashes fluttered gently against pale proud cheekbones before opening slowly. The former Commander didn’t say anything as his blue gaze reverted to their meal which was sitting forgotten on the table, leaned forward to grab it along with the plates and spoons to place them on the carpet next to them. Sephiroth couldn’t bring himself to comment on the quiet that descended between them, because it was familiar… It wasn’t filled with his spiraling thoughts, and even if it was due to the pleasant after-effects of the moments they’d just shared, the silver-haired man couldn’t help but feel pleased. With the music playing softly in the background, sun pouring in through the windows and dancing on the ferns he’d brought… The muted clink of cutlery against their plates as they ate their brunch in comfortable silence… 

How all this merged with some other images he’d had in his mind…buried under the rust and residue of years passed; it left him somehow breathless…wanting…like all those years ago, like he somehow knew it deep to his bones…wanted this life as much as he wanted Genesis. And it was easy again to give himself to that sweet voice inside his head that whispered that the circumstances of their being together didn’t matter…that the tulle, tangible curtain of bliss shrouding and veiling them from the rest of the world was all that mattered…but there was also his logic.

“I’m thinking about opening a dojo.” Genesis muttered quietly, his eyes downcast as he spoke. “Probably and preferably in the slums.”

Sephiroth was surprised...and he wasn’t. He wasn’t surprised because his partner was a man of action. And despite the fact that he wasn’t interested in joining Shinra, he’d known that there would come a point when the former Commander would want to do something productive to keep his mind and his body occupied. The General in interim  _ was _ surprised because it was something that would-ultimately-help the people. Specifically, the youth of the populace. It was a good idea, because teaching children to defend themselves was something that most of those in the slums would not have access to. Martial arts training could be costly, though it could be reasoned that most children learned to fight out of necessity regardless; but it was better that they learn in a safe, structured setting than in street brawls. Setting his plate down, the green-eyed first thought for a moment before tilting his head.

“I...know you probably wouldn’t want HQ involved, but if you got a license through Shinra, we could offer students who saw promise positions.” When the redhead opened his mouth, he hurried onwards. “They wouldn’t have to be Soldier positions, though I wouldn’t omit the possibility. And we wouldn’t recruit anyone younger than eighteen, but it might offer them a way up in terms of employment. Children in the slums are offered so few opportunities to begin with; it’s a dilemma we’ve been trying to deal with for a long time.” Running a hand through his hair, Sephiroth continued. “I’ve...been thinking.” When Genesis raised a questioning brow, he grimaced. “...About Vincent” he said flatly. “If- _ when- _ Angeal-” he broke off, but his partner’s expression told him he understood. “I don’t know how he’s going to feel about traveling, about his current position...if he’ll want to continue it, and he’s been staying close to HQ regardless. I know the two of you didn’t get along very well before; but...if you wanted to...I think he might be interested in working alongside you. Turk combat training is different than Soldier training; it’s more hand-to-hand and the fighting style is different. If you could create a methodology together, something that allowed you to portion your classes between the two of you...I think it would be something he’d enjoy, and I know he’d appreciate you asking.” 

The beaming smile he received was even more surprising than when Genesis had informed Sephiroth about his idea. Running dexterous fingers through fiery tresses, his lover’s features were contemplative for a moment or two before he opened his mouth to probably give him one of those stream of consciousness talks. “Actually…” Those cerise lips stretched into a grin that was so mischievous it was contagious, and the General felt his own twitch upwards in barely concealed curiosity. “I was going to ask you to let me borrow some of your men who are willing to do something like this for free. Also, sure, I can ask Vincent to help me devise a different fighting method.” A pause, and a shadow fleeted across azure irises. “I was thinking of implementing what I learnt in Deepground with sword fighting. Speaking of him, I think your father might have some valuable inputs. What I learnt there was more for skirmishes and brawls rather than a strict fighting style.” Shaking his head to dispel the suddenly solemn air that had settled about him, the former Commander continued. “I think Angeal would really appreciate the idea too. I’m sure Vincent would have to join, even if he didn’t want to, because knowing ‘Geal, if I told him, he’d set up permanent residence in the slums, in my very dojo.” Another beaming smile was offered to him before an auburn eyebrow was arched questioningly. “What do you think? Lend me a hand?”

Realistically, it would be better to bring Angeal into it right off the bat. Sephiroth reflected on this dryly for a moment before accepting it as a fact. If he didn’t, Administration would be-veritably-up Genesis’ backside at any given moment just because of who he was. He doubted that his lover would be very tolerant of such attention for very long. Bringing his men in was an added bonus, because that meant he didn’t have to order as many of them about or make sure as many of them didn’t kill themselves doing something asinine. Compared to the Soldiers of yesteryear, Shinra’s new crop of trainees were very green and not exactly combat-experienced; which made training them rather like training a herd of drunken chocobos. He knew-immediately-that he couldn’t volunteer himself personally. Because this was something Genesis should have the opportunity to bring up on his own, and if his name was so much as mentioned anywhere in affiliation with it, their respective fan clubs would be hosting spars against each other in darkened alleyways. The mental picture it created was almost amusing enough to let it happen, but he resisted. 

“There’s something else you should consider,” he said finally. “If you do this, anonymity is off the table. The public is eventually going to find out you’re alive.” The General in interim raised a silver brow. “Unless you intend to teach classes in a cowl, but I imagine that would make demonstrating positions somewhat difficult. And there is always going to be the bold trainee who rips your hood off whether you like it or not.” He smirked teasingly. “Or the trainee that firagas your vambraces off  _ ‘just to see what happens.’”  _ Sobering somewhat, Sephiroth continued. “And I know you’ve likely considered this before, I just want to make sure that it’s something you’re comfortable with.”

At that, Genesis pressed his lips into a tight line, leaving his fork and spoon in his plate before placing said items on the coffee table he was leaning on with his elbow. It seemed as though Sephiroth’s speaking it out loud had somehow made it more real for his partner, as though it had been a possibility he’d otherwise been willing to turn a blind eye to. Opening his mouth to ameliorate what he’d said, the former Commander raised a hand. “I know… I just… I hope I can drag it out long enough for someone-anyone really, from those whom I’m going to teach or the men you lend me-to be experienced enough to leave the dojo to.” His lover hung his head. “I know that’s a really simplistic viewpoint but you could say I’m fooling myself with it until it comes all crashing down, because if I don’t, I think I’m gonna back out of this before I even start.” There was a pause, getting longer the more his companion contemplated. “There’s really no way it wouldn’t attract so much attention, is there? No way we can do it without making a fuss? Maybe you should teach instead of me, or maybe I could only teach the kids who don’t know anything about me, and field any questioning parents to others?” There was a brief shadow of a smile tugging on the older man’s lips as he regarded the silver-haired First with a somewhat supplicative gaze.

Against his will, Sephiroth chuckled, though it was wholly affectionate.

“Genesis” he said dryly. “Can you honestly see me teaching  _ children?”  _ He laughed again. “I’d raze the place to the ground within the first five minutes. You’re much more...well-rounded in that area than me. Though I’m not saying no to coming in every once in a while.” The silver-haired man tried not to grimace as he said this. “Realistically though, I might scare away your trainees, and Gaia forbid if one of them pulls my hair-” he broke off and blinked in existential horror. “I’ll wear it up” he deadpanned. Reaching forward, he took the older man’s hand. “The media isn’t what it used to be” Sephiroth said soothingly. “And I think you’ll find the hype concerning us isn’t quite as virulent. Midgar is more interested in recovery...in rebuilding.” Raising familiar knuckles to his lips, he kissed each one before continuing. “It’s hard to...put yourself in a place that’s...recognizable after a long time out of the loop. And this doesn’t have to be a tabloid affair. You have a few options. We could do a press announcement and ask that the public field questions to myself or someone else you trust, or you could just open the dojo up and deal with what happens when it happens.” Sitting back, the younger man smiled. “Regardless, this doesn’t need to become something painful for you. If you needed to step back until everything calmed down again, that’s okay. Vincent or Angeal could hold everything over until people stop nosing around. Just because people know you’re alive doesn’t mean you have to cater to their inherent voyeurism. I certainly don’t.” 

Pushing the silver-haired soldier’s plate aside and out of the way, Genesis scooted forward and onto his lap, for which Sephiroth had to displace his legs to accommodate the sudden, yet welcome weight of his lover’s physicality. Azure eyes wide with mock-disbelief and a ravishing mouth puckered in a offended-amused expression was the sight of that gorgeous face before his companion spoke. “ _ Well-rounded, Seph? _ Are you sure you’re talking about me and not Angeal?” Articulate hands which had disappeared in a loop around his neck, rose and got tangled in his hair as the older man cocked his head to the side, observing how his fingers were gathering up Sephiroth’s silver mane behind his head in a ponytail. “You should wear it up more often, or let me braid it for you.” When he proceeded to look absolutely horrified, those sanguine lips stretched into an entirely too cheeky and smug smirk, before the redhead’s sharp features softened in a pair of glittering smiling eyes. Letting go of his hair, dexterous digits dove and resurfaced in the moonlight waterfall as they brushed the tresses in an absent-minded yet affectionate gesture, cerulean irises following their movement before refocusing on the younger man’s face. “The reason I’m worried is because I want to have you all to myself...as selfish as it is. I don’t want… I know what you’re saying, but it’s hard to accept, especially considering the hero status they’ve bestowed me with. I want to be able to focus on  _ you _ , on  _ us _ ,  _ our relationship _ entirely without having to worry about anything and anyone else, for once.” A brief pause, and a warm hand cradled the side of his face, caressing it with feather-light pinpoints of connection. “I want to do so many things with you Seph…  _ so many _ …” A tremulous exhale, and while it felt like his partner was about to continue, Genesis looked away; bit his upper lip for a moment as he blinked, and didn’t say anything otherwise for a long moment. Just as Sephiroth had been about to open his mouth to call the scarlet-haired man’s name to break him out of whatever solemn spell he’d fallen under, his partner turned to face him, the fingertips that had just stopped stroking the side of his face digging in just slightly; the touch more assertive than the faint brush of textured epidermis against his skin it had been before. 

“When do you think you can ditch your duties, and I my still-imaginary, unstarted dojo, so we could just go away for awhile?” The redhead’s voice had lowered to a whisper…serious despite the somewhat humorous wording of his query. A strange look was inside Genesis’ sharp deep blue eyes, his lips suddenly so close and still so far away. It was distracting a bit, or maybe too distracting if he was being honest; the arch of that pale exquisite neck as the older man tilted his head. “As long as your work allows...just you and me...alone…” A pause full of anticipation, followed by an almost inaudible purr that was just on the wrong-or maybe right-side of seductive even though his lover’s tone was still intense. “ _ Anywhere… _ ”

Sephiroth was conflicted.

Not because he didn’t want that sense of solidarity with Genesis...but because he also had his priorities in Shinra. And he wasn’t entirely sure if it was because of his duties as General in interim, or if it was because he knew that when Angeal died, Vincent was going to fall apart. A shiver ran up his spine as the thought crossed his mind. As stoic, solemn, and careful as his sire was...there was also the single factor that the dark-haired ex-Turk  _ loved  _ his partner. And it was a kind of love that was entirely different from the way he loved Genesis. He viewed Genesis as an equal...and he wasn’t sentimental at all...but the older man balanced him out somewhat...like ice and fire. They tempered each other because they were wholly different individuals in a cohesive partnership. 

But Angeal and Vincent were two halves of a whole; and it was a peaceful whole. He could act as disgusted and childish as he wanted when they displayed affection around him, but the truth of it was that the depth of it was  _ staggering.  _ It was steady, careful and respectful in a way that he couldn’t really fathom, didn’t want to fathom because if he and his redheaded companion ever tried it he was fairly sure they’d laugh themselves hysterical and then proceed to act like they always did. …Passionate. He’d never used the word while applying it to himself, but his relationship with the former Commander was passionate. His father’s relationship was gentle and nurturing and sweet and he didn’t know what the fallout would be once it came to an end. He was-effectively- _ frightened  _ of how badly the crimson-eyed gunslinger would handle it, because his sire was calm, but he was also his closest biological relative and he could occasionally be unhinged. 

Sephiroth was afraid Angeal’s death would destroy Vincent in irreparable, irreversible ways.

“I want to do all those things with you” the silver-haired soldier murmured, pushing a strand of scarlet hair away from that beautiful face. “But...I’m worried Genesis. I don’t want to leave when…” he took a deep breath. “Genesis, losing you was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. I lost you  _ twice,  _ and I’m fairly familiar with how it feels. Vincent and Angeal are…” green eyes disappeared behind aggrieved lids. “ _ So close,  _ you know it, I know it. Maybe I’m more familiar with it, because I’ve been around them longer...but when Angeal dies, it’s going to be-” he swallowed. “-Really,  _ really  _ bad.” He shook his head. “I can’t leave, not right now.” Pressing his lips to the older man’s forehead, he let them linger before pulling away. “I’m not saying no, I’m just asking for time.” Cupping alabaster cheeks with both palms, Sephiroth smiled, a little sadly. “I love you, I  _ want  _ to see the world with you. But the world...it’s so small compared to you. And as much as you’re my world, Angeal is Vincent’s world...I would be the cruelest man alive if I left him alone to grieve when the entirety of his reason for existing disappears.” 

The tiniest hint of a smile tugged on Genesis’ lips, his lover’s hand rising to mirror how he was holding the redhead’s face in his own before the older man kissed Sephiroth’s forehead. It was a strange feeling, the quiet that suddenly seeped between them, as close as they were in that moment, both physically and emotionally. It was akin to all those times they had, the brief lull before his fiery partner’s temper exploded in a volcanic eruption...and at the same time like the drizzle of water through the cracks of a stone in the coldest of winters, giving the promise of a shiver trembling down his spine, but never delivering. Azure eyes were observing his face, and the expression on the former Commander’s face was shuttered…totally unreadable which made the overall strangeness of the situation even more pronounced, more tangible until it was nigh corporeal. He wanted to say something, but he’d run his speech dry, and honestly, he was at a loss on what to say.

“... _ And how I love thee, beyond words or gestures. For you are my universe, and I am but a pinprick star...In your magnificent sky… _ ” Cerulean depths were hidden behind milky eyelids before Genesis looked away. “Alright, love.” Detangling himself to get up, the redhead added. “I’ll give you time.”

Sephiroth remained where he was, because despite the tangibility of the moment, he was under the impression that he had somehow misstepped. And he  _ wished  _ that it was so easy, that he could just go and be done with it. Vincent had abandoned him...it was only fitting that he would do the same, but he couldn’t lower himself to that level without hating himself; couldn’t sink so far for the sake of pettiness. An infant had far more to lose from abandonment than an adult, but he couldn’t repay cruelty for cruelty. He wouldn’t be that man. Biting his lip, he turned the reality of the situation over frantically, tried to find a middle ground...tried to rationalize it in a way that would work for his father and for his partner. 

Briefly, he considered asking Angeal and Vincent to go with them. Almost immediately, he dismissed the concept, because he was fairly sure that Genesis would  _ hate  _ that. He had his comm, of course...that would work across long distances. And he was fairly sure that Angeal had  _ some  _ time…maybe enough time that they could leave for a little while and not miss anything...vital. He knew-instinctively-that he couldn’t go to Mideel. He wasn’t sure why, only that the memories there were too painful for him...that facing those ghosts would be too much and too soon. Some part of him was also angrily resentful of the people the redhead had given his attention and time to when he’d been busy putting the pieces of himself back together at HQ…when he’d been putting the pieces of  _ Angeal  _ back together at HQ. The silver-haired man was fairly sure there was no way he could be anything other than hateful in the face of that. Funaraoi was also an option, but they weren’t prisoners anymore, and he was sure that his partner wouldn’t like the idea of returning to the place they’d been exiled. 

“We could...take a vacation,” he said slowly. “Somewhere. I don’t know if it could be very long, but there’s no reason we can’t go.” Shifting slightly, he continued. “It’s not exactly what you were thinking of, most likely. But it would be nice to get away for awhile.” 

Genesis who had been in the process of retrieving their dishes and the tupperware from the table paused for a moment; seemed to contemplate for the entirety of that lapse in his usual grace and promptly put all the aforementioned items down. Straightening to his full height, his lover cocked an elegant eyebrow. “What is this?” A bemused streak flashed on the older man’s face for an instant before disappearing as abruptly as it had appeared and quickly getting substituted with a frown. “Who are you and what have you done with Sephiroth?”

Sephiroth huffed exasperatedly.

“I’m the same person” he said flatly. “I’m just trying to find a middle ground. Theoretically, we could go on vacation on weekends...away from Midgar. Leave at the end of the final workday and then come back on the evening of the final day of the weekend.” He shrugged and rubbed a self-conscious hand up one arm. “That way...we could do both. You could start your dojo and we could travel on days off and on holidays.” A grimace. “Not that we  _ have  _ that many holidays but that’s still something to consider.” 

The older man had looked away, started pacing to and fro in a short line in front of him as he spoke before whirling around to face him when he was finished. “It’s not…” The word lacked the usual bite Genesis’ words had when they were arguing and fighting, and Sephiroth wondered briefly whether they were arguing or not before the other occupant of the room continued. “I was just talking about one vacation, not every week-and it’s not at all how you drew that conclusion that bothers me, but how quickly you changed your word.” Giving him a sharp look, the redhead huffed angrily before striding toward the bedroom of the flat. “He pulls the caring shit on me and when I acquiesce, he suddenly decides that no, he wants to change his mind.” The former Commander threw over his shoulder as he went and soon there was the sound of the door of the closet opening. “Middle ground bullshit. Who am I living with?”

Grudgingly, the younger man admitted that his partner had a point.

And so what? He thought angrily. It’s not like the redhead had  _ specified  _ the time length of their escapades. For all he knew they might have been gone for months and it wasn’t his fault that his lover hadn’t made it clearer. Huffing grumpily, he remained on the floor and scowled in the direction Genesis had gone. What was so horrible about trying to find a middle ground anyway? And  _ what  _ was so terrible about changing his mind? If he didn’t have an open mindset he’d have killed half his men in the field before he ever met the older man. He’d have been discharged and would have likely spent the remainder of his days in the lab having never met Genesis and his overall curmudgeon-ness. Kicking a foot out in front of him, he stared at the heel of his boot mulishly before deciding if he was going to Hell he might as well be on fire for the trip.

“You know” Sephiroth said loudly, over the sound of the rummaging in the closet. “I think this is a situation where we both failed to clarify our points beforehand.” When no reply was forthcoming, he resisted the urge to stomp over. “And I don’t live here, you didn’t invite me to” he pointed out grouchily. “So technically you’re not living with anyone.” 

The sounds coming from Genesis’ bedroom stopped promptly. There was the crunch of plastic before something light was thrown somewhere inside the room behind him, followed subsequently by a loud  ***bang*** of a door closing before his lover’s stomping gait drew nearer and nearer.

Oh, great.

His fiery-haired lover finally came into his view, and stuck a finger out toward him, positively on the verge of exploding and possibly blowing up the whole block into smithereens. “ _ You! _ You haven’t even invited me over to your house once since I’ve been here!” The former Commander looked murderously at him. “Bemoaning how far it is to walk from the headquarters, and yet every time, you come here with a truckload of Angeal’s stupid plants and Vincent’s cooking!” There was a pause. “And don’t you  _ dare  _ pull the ‘if you don’t want me to come over I won’t’ shit on me Sephiroth. You’re not a  _ fucking child _ .”

“It’s not as if you’ve made it clear that you’d be  _ thrilled  _ to visit me in HQ,” the younger man shot back, rising and striding over to stand within a hair's breadth of the furious redhead. Wrinkling his nose, he continued. “And when have I complained about the walk?!” he demanded incredulously. “You just pulled that out of your-” the dangerous look in Genesis’ eyes made him refocus. “I wasn’t pulling anything” Sephiroth said petulantly. “I was correcting your grammatical choice.” In the back of his mind, he acknowledged  _ he _ wasn’t making any good  _ conversational choices. _ “I can’t control either of them, with the plants or the cooking. Besides, it’s not killing you to have ferns or tupperware. And if I left it at HQ it’s only a matter of time before Angeal turns the whole thing into a greenhouse; all the men will get lost trying to find their way through Administration, and I’ll have to eat all that  _ ‘stupid cooking’ _ on the helipad.” Widening his eyes to emphasize the tragedy of it, he continued.  _ “Alone.”  _ Leaning in, he rearranged his visage into what he hoped was a supplicating expression. “Are you really going to make me do that? Live in a jungle and eat all of Vincent’s ridiculous cooking alone?” 

Genesis’ face spasmed, a corner of a cerise mouth twitching upward a couple of times before the redhead reached forward and smashed their lips together. Though, the effect of the kiss was hampered by the smile that was stretching over those luxurious curves. Pulling just slightly back, his partner gave him a displeased look but that too lacked its usual vehement annoyance. “You know, I’m beginning to think that living with them is spoiling you rotten.” A smirk. “I swear if you turn into a marshmallow, I’m going to ditch you for someone else, our mind-blowing lovemaking sessions notwithstanding. You know how I despise sweets, don’t you Seph?” Feeling the tension bleed out of the atmosphere, and the increasing chance of the building remaining on the plate instead of combusting to the atmosphere, Sephiroth was about to sigh inwardly with relief when his companion spoke. “The idea of spending every weekend on vacation is attractive, but I don’t want to run your bank account dry. Also, while I think I could find someone to run the dojo in my stead in the future, I still want to be around Angeal as much as you want to be around Vincent.” The former Commander’s sharp features were softening somewhat, warm palms descending from his cheeks to the sides of his neck. “And I really don’t mind the food and the plants as long as they don’t take over my whole freezer and my house.” When the silver-haired soldier opened his mouth to speak, a finger was gently pressed over his mouth. “Finally, I’d like to see and even live in your place, Sephiroth. But I’m also comfortable here, and I think we can agree on living arrangements later; especially if the public found out about my identity.” 

“Not a marshmallow” Sephiroth muttered against the offending digit before batting it away and leaning forward to capture the older man's mouth, nipping at his bottom lip before raising both hands to sink them into scarlet locks. “Though if you're insinuating I'm sweet I think I ought to bend you over the couch and teach you a lesson about mouthing off.” When those blue eyes darkened somewhat, he smirked. “Just because I'm 'nice’ doesn't mean I'm  _ soft in the head.”  _ Letting the fingers of his right hand tighten somewhat, he drew Genesis’ head back slightly to lick a long, inglorious stripe up his jugular before biting down just-so. “Just because I  _ care  _ doesn't erase the concept of my identity entirely.” Cocking his head, he raised an eyebrow, and jerked his hips forward.. “Just like how you don't jump down my throat every five seconds doesn't mean you're any less you...hmm? But if you think I can't still  _ wipe the floor with you _ , you're  _ wrong.”  _ Grinding downwards, he yanked the older man to him. “And by 'wipe the floor’, I'm talking about letting you  _ come all over it. _ ”

The red curve a brow mirrored his as his lover observed his visage with a dark, appraising look from underneath fringes of auburn lashes. “Oh, quit your sweet talking, you’re rotting my teeth.” The redhead jerked his hips forward, rebelliously forceful enough to make both of the groan. “I think  _ I _ should bend you over the couch for insinuating that I jumped down your throat every five seconds in the past…” A wayward hand had made a sure trek down his side and lingered on his hip for a moment before descending lower to palm and knead his ass. “Or maybe…” A spank against his backside, and Sephiroth tried to maintain as much of a straight face as possible in their stare-down. “I should discipline you for thinking that you can  _ wipe _ the floor with me, General sir.” The former Commander rolled his hips agonizingly slow, letting him feel the hardening line of the hard-on the older man was sporting against his own; the only thing betraying his partner’s impatience was a slight trembling in his melodious voice. “ _ Hmm-mm? _ ”

It was entirely unfair that Genesis could make him feel so singularly conflicted during a moment when he was trying to gain the upper hand. Sephiroth reflected on this even as he felt the slightest flush dust his cheeks. And he was  _ not sweet,  _ not at all. Though evidently the older man had somehow come to the conclusion that he was entirely brainless in terms of his own autonomy when he was doing the best he could with what he was given. The hand on his backside squeezed again and the silver-haired man lost that train of thought almost entirely before yanking himself into the present again. Narrowing his eyes, he schooled his expression into that of neutrality; pushed back into the touch and smirked yet again. Licking his lips, he watched as blue eyes followed the movement, as the fire in that expression wavered somewhat as the General in interim’s aim became unclear. Letting his hair fall to one side, the green-eyed First bared the expanse of his neck...let his visage become somewhat sultry. Reciprocating his lover’s slow grind, the younger man lowered his lids and looked up through them.

“If you think-” he purred, watching with a shivering kind of delight as the former Commander’s focus became a little distracted. “-That I can’t take you apart from a  _ submissive  _ angle as much as I can from a  _ dominant  _ one, you’re again wrong.” Pulling the redhead back, he began a slow walk in reverse...towards the couch. “ _ ‘General Sir’”  _ he echoed teasingly, letting his lips brush over his partner’s as he loosed one of his hands from crimson locks and let in grasp the jut of a hip bone. “Should you really be calling me  _ ‘sir’  _ if you’re so keen on calling me  _ ‘sweet?’”  _ Sephiroth’s other palm retreated to curve over the slope of a stubborn jaw...kept it soft and somewhat lazy. “I think-” he continued, and this time he let the whispers of a growl color his tone. “-You need to up your game or yield.” The green-eyed Soldier let his grip tighten before drawing Genesis forward-fast-for a hard, deep kiss; thrust his tongue between plush lips to plunder his mouth. When he drew away they were both breathing heavily. Snaking a hand between them, he squeezed the outline of his lover’s burgeoning erection. “Though if I yield, I’m still going to make you sing my name to the stars.”

The smirk and the glint in blue irises he received was nothing short of the up-to-no-good and rebellious sort of mischievousness which meant his challenge had been accepted. Having his hand swatted away, another was splayed over his chest before Genesis pushed, though Sephiroth didn’t yield, held his ground and mirrored his lover’s expression with a smugness that rivaled the redhead’s. Seeing that perfect mouth pucker in barely concealed irritation, the General couldn’t help but feel the smirk stretch over his only for it to falter somewhat when the older man suddenly gripped his cock and arched auburn eyebrows in warning. “ _ Sit _ and watch,  _ sweetheart _ .” Before he could protest against the imperative and the term bestowed upon him, the former Commander made a ‘tsk’ing sound. “I’m trying to up my game as you put it. It’s not a yield. Sit.”

Swatting the hand on his crotch aside, the silver-haired soldier gripped the back of a magnificent neck, bringing their faces close but not enough for their lips to mesh, separated only for the width of a breath. It was rather amusing to see how those sapphire eyes darted to his mouth and back up as Sephiroth raised a triumphant yet questioning platinum brow. “Where are your manners Commander? Ordering your superior?” It was his turn to click his tongue. “Say please, and I might reconsider.” He ordered nonchalantly which was the herald of yet another stare-down between them, broken only once by the minute forward jerking of Genesis’ hips before he held himself back. “Well?”

The scarlet-haired ex-First ensnared him in a kiss then...deep, with more tongue than was necessary...lapping and rolling betwixt their open mouths before plunging inwards as they tilted their heads slightly… Lips locking fiercely...hot, and he was fed a wanton, throaty moan. They both had to resurface for air, still close enough to feel hot spurts of breath over his face. “ _ Pretty please. _ ” Genesis whispered raggedly as he pushed him back, watched him go with a dark dark look in azure pools that didn’t leave him...even as the redhead started undressing in front of him and between his thighs. First the shirt was thrown over an alabaster shoulder and then ivory fingers hooked over the waistband of the older man’s pants. Walking backwards until his shins hit the table, Genesis pulled the garment down agonizingly, increment after slow increment. With his lover somewhat beyond his immediate reach, Sephiroth finally had to break eye contact to watch the flushed curve of his partner’s arousal straining beautifully. 

But then there was also the movement of those dexterous digits along the yards of revealed pale skin; starting at the inside of a wellbuilt thigh, up toward Genesis’ erection, a wayward caress and the silver-haired General was conflicted where to feast his eyes upon…to gaze at how those features twisted infinitesimally in the promise of pleasure or how his lover’s cock twitched slightly, glistening with precum. Or how the former Commander’s palm was splayed over his abdomen and trekking upwards languidly over the map of a lithe physicality. A barely audible moan, and the redhead tilted his head back, azure eyes fluttering closed as articulate digits pinched a pink nipple, the older man’s free hand coming to wrap loosely around his erection. 

It was difficult not to touch. 

Even as he kept up the pretense of casual observance, there was no denying his body's burning desire for contact. Sephiroth wanted to run his fingers over that wealth of ivory skin...wanted to feel the hard-smooth give of it under his fingers. More tempting still was the evidence of his partner's arousal, the flush that created coral hemispheres on his visage...the swollen, bitten shine of his lips and the stiffness of his erection. Glassy ocean-colored eyes and the faintest sheen of perspiration...barely-there, unnoticeable to someone who wasn't intimately familiar with the physicality before him. Long fingers against the dusky pinkness of a nipple, the contrast of colors a somewhat erotic play on the eyes. The dips of musculature here and there, the bunch of them on the forearm of the hand wrapped around the redhead's need. And he wanted to lean forward to lick that pearly droplet hanging from the roseate tip; wanted to swallow it down and chase the rest. 

Because even in his state of clear display the older man could still hold Sephiroth's focus to a degree that was staggering...could demand his attention with a husky moan or a quiet gasp.

He reverted his focus out of necessity; sat up somewhat to draw his shirt over his head and drop it to the floor. The silver-haired man kept his eyes trained on the sight before him as he did so-as much as he could anyway-kept his focus forward...the hunger in his belly turning into a slow smolder. And when Genesis arched slightly it was a graceful thing and yet somehow fully masculine. Virile and wholly a gesture of rapture, the bow of his spine, the heaviness of his lids. Kicking off his boots and socks, the green-eyed First couldn't resist the urge anymore; brought his hands forward to grasp pale hips, watched the give of epidermis beneath his fingers and exhaled raggedly. Cerulean irises glowed with an emotion that was half smug and half affectionate, the curve of those lips triumphant but indulgent all at once. Returning the gesture nearly without thought, Sephiroth let his mouth traverse where his right hand had been, nipped slightly before letting his forehead drop. Exhaling, he lifted his head and smirked playfully. 

“You don't play fair,” he murmured. “But that doesn't really surprise me.”

Those elegant digits fell from Genesis’ chest, lowered slowly to laxly graze the side of his face in a wholly reverent and affectionate gesture as their owner gazed down at him with hooded blue eyes. Fingertips burning embers against his skin traced the outline of his lips in quiet, covetous observation and exploration; as though his lover was discovering an exotic terrain, fascination blooming forth in a stuttered exhale over the distracted part of a sanguine mouth. Sephiroth flicked the tip of his tongue out over the seam of his own lips to lick at the textured epidermis of the redhead’s fingertips, and was rewarded with the minute widening of azure eyes. It seemed to be enough for his lover to feel weak in his knees and to come down and straddle the General’s thighs on the couch; tilting the younger man’s chin upwards so they could gaze at each other in the smoldering heat of their passion. 

Ducking an auburn head, his partner started mouthing along the strong line of his jaw, leaving a trail of burning, fleeting kisses that sent fire devils trembling down his spine to pool in the pit of his stomach. A hot mouth closed briefly over his pointed chin, and Sephiroth couldn’t stop the tremulous exhale escaping him before his breath was robbed of him by sensual yet languidly fervent vermillion as they closed around his. The suffusion of the taste that was Genesis’ burst forth on his taste buds...individual and unique...warm and so soft. His partner drew back, a trail of spit dangling between their moist lips before the scarlet-haired ex-soldier whispered…low as though it was a secret between the two of them. “It’s not unfair if the winner relinquishes his prize.” 

He had to raise his hips and help those deft fingers as Genesis tried to rid him off his pants-not all the way, more like just as much as it was relevant to whatever agenda the redhead had in mind-before both of them settled back down. Sephiroth’s breath escaped in between his teeth in a desirous hiss as his lover’s ministration had his length rubbing along the crevice of the older man’s ass...to and fro, as both of them watched with bated breath, furrowed eyebrows and pearl white teeth catching and releasing a rubicund upper lip. A slight change in their position, and the head of his erection caught on the furrow of his former comrade’s entrance, had fingers clutching his shoulder as Genesis pushed against his arousal; the frictious drag of epidermis, the pressure of an unyielding ring of muscle, and Sephiroth gripped those lean hips firmly before his partner reigned himself in.

“ _ Yatte okureyo… _ ” Breathless and almost inaudible as though it was a sacrament only Sephiroth should be privy to...something only he had the right to hear.

“Do you have lube this time?” the younger man asked raggedly, resisting the urge to drive forward into that shuddering heat. 

Sapphire eyes observed him for a moment before Genesis leaned to the side a moment-almost over his shoulder-before apparently digging for something in the couch cushions. The younger man took the minute while he was rummaging to calm his somewhat frayed nerves...allowing his breathing to relax before something slim and long was pressed into his hand. Palming the bottle of lube, the silver-haired First craned his neck somewhat to kiss his scarlet-haired lover before popping the cap open with his thumb. Cerise lips curved into a soft smile that wavered quickly into an open-mouthed expression of errant pleasure as he let his fingers descend; steadied the older man with his unoccupied hand before letting a single digit slide underneath his partner’s cock...across the perineum to the ruched ingress beneath. When the General in interim reached it they both exhaled unsteadily in unison...seemingly poised in the moment as he began a slow circular motion...determined to wring this out as long as he could. And he could almost feel the former Commander’s frustration with his pace…could feel the way his thighs tensed whenever he facilitated a slow dip inward before retreating again. 

Leisurely...languid...soft touches and barely-there shudders. There was nothing more glorious than watching Genesis fall apart under his fingers; watching as those crimson brows furrowed in equal parts passion and frustration. A lilting moan fell between them...suffused the space of the apartment and Sephiroth swallowed it down...took it deep with his tongue until the last vestiges of it were gone. Inwards and those pale hips shuddered slightly; a forehead pressing against his as temperate breath passed over his cheeks. Heated flesh against his distal phalanx; clenching slightly with every slow advance...libertine and suggestive...so,  _ so  _ inviting. And the sense of temptation was seductive; the knowledge that he  _ could  _ take if he wanted to but ultimately didn’t because he valued the accretion to such a degree...it was magnetic. Just as magnetic as the indolent writhe of the physicality against him; the manner in which Genesis rocked just-slightly in rhythm to his touch. Like the swirl of sand in an hourglass...ever inwards and downwards before it was flipped and the cycle was begun again. Two fingers and he crooked them, drove them somewhat deeper before pressing upwards just slightly...felt his breath catch when his partner groaned.

“Good?” he murmured idly. 

The redhead frowned for a moment, as if concentrating too hard on something, luxurious lips forming into a circle of soundless words, before he seemed to finally find his eloquence and utter a quiet ‘No.’

Stilling his fingers, Sephiroth looked at the older man questioningly as he raised himself on his knees. Genesis didn’t seem to want to elaborate, even as he snatched the bottle of lube from beside them, poured a generous amount on a big palm and promptly gripped the General’s erection in his hand. A hiss escaped the part of his mouth before he bit his own lower lip, tilted his head back, and there was the soft flutter of hair cascading over his shoulder but the silver-haired man couldn’t really focus on that.

Hot ‘n cold. 

With his eyes pressed shut, he chased the cool sensation of his lovers fingers as they stroked up the length of his arousal. Finally cracking open his eyes but just-so Sephiroth watched the expression on the redhead’s face as his blue irises darted between his face and how his cock kept disappearing and reappearing between the firm hold the former Commander had around it. His fiery lover didn’t give him any time to adjust, and his brain almost short-circuited when that warmth ingress started enveloping the apex of his need, any protest he might have had dying on his tongue. Holding Genesis’ hips didn’t really give him any more control on the situation than he already had, and he was helpless but to watch as the smooth alabaster of the chiseled physicality in front of him was adorned with miniature beads of sweat; to feel the cooling egress of air through the ruby part of his partner’s mouth as the older man breathed through it until the silver-haired First was fully inside him.

A breathless smile was offered his way, and they were both still. Vaguely, he realized that the situation he was in was pretty much reminiscent of the first time they were physical at Rhapsodos’ mansion. Genesis’ exercise for control...his impatience… He wanted to write it off as the continuation of the power-play they had engaged in, but an uneasy feeling coiled in his gut. While he might have trouble holding himself where he was and not push forward into the welcoming heat surrounding his cock, the silver-haired man couldn’t move. Maybe it was submission...even though he was the one taking? The redhead’s voice jarred him out of his reverie.

“It was good, you just keep forgetting that I’m not… I’m not mako-infused anymore.” was the somewhat halting explanation. “I don’t want to come just from you fucking me with your fingers. I  _ want _ your dick.”

There was-he reflected a little tiredly-a fine line between pleasing his partner and pissing him off. He wasn’t entirely sure which way the redhead was leaning to...so he remained as he was. A little indignantly, he reflected that he’d been  _ trying  _ to be gentle...and a small slightly insecure part of him shriveled at the idea that he had been enjoying himself while giving his partner any degree of physical pain. And he’d forgotten about the mako. With a surge of sincere horror he acknowledged that he’d taken Genesis on his countertop without a single thought in terms of what kind of discomfort he might or might not be feeling. Though-he considered a little bit savagely-it served him right for staying away so long, but he wasn’t the vengeful type and his actions during those moments had been purely passionate and somewhat relief-driven. It also wasn’t entirely pleasant to be having an existential crisis in terms of his sex life in the middle of intercourse but there wasn’t a lot he could do about it now, except do his best to fuck his companion into some form of exasperation-free happiness without fucking him too hard. 

Doing his best to remain politely immobile despite the veritable yelling of his erection, Sephiroth cupped the back of the former Commander’s head; let his fingers run through the sparse hairs at the base of his neck before pulling out just slightly...keeping his eyes trained on the older man’s face for any type of discomfort. When there was none he thrust back inwards...to the hilt…ground himself against that locus of fire with a kind of cognizant passion as he gripped Genesis’ hip. He found a rhythm somewhat; though he let his scarlet-haired partner take the lead in that respect. Their tandem rhythm was something smooth and gradual...teetering just on the edges of abandon. Biting his lip, the silver-haired man fought the urge to instinctively seek more; leaned back somewhat even as the silken, vice-like grip around his erection became an almost unbearable thing. Genesis’ twisted his hips somewhat and the groan that fell from his lips was entirely involuntarily, as was the way he surged upwards to meet it; lifting his other hand so he could tilt the redhead away somewhat...so he could get a good angle...let his fingers grip the curve of his partner’s backside even as he thrust deep...as he let his mouth close over a peaked nipple as clever digits carded through his hair before shifting it just slightly to one side. 

Then it was like some spell had broken, and it was those same fingers that came to clutch his shoulders, nails digging for an infinitesimal moment but a moment nonetheless, enough for Sephiroth to let go of the pebbled flesh to look up through fringes of silver lashes at his lover. A small voice in him whispered  _ ‘What now?’ _ and if he were to compare the other times they’d had sex, this one was, by far, the most awkward among them. It was a little indignantly that he drew back, letting out an exasperated huff as they stilled once more, both of them straining and gazing at each other. If his lover was anyone else, the General would have withdrawn, thrown him aside and promptly stormed to the shower and pleasured himself, but he knew that such a move was bound to piss Genesis off, and honestly, despite the strangeness of their coupling, it was still hot...just not measuring up to their steaming lovemaking sessions.

“What are you doing?” The former Commander queried, genuinely if a little bit breathlessly. And the scowl that settled on the younger man’s visage was met with a red frown. “You’re holding back. I-...” Some sort of realization must have dawned on his lover, because one of those hands holding onto his shoulder was raised to brush auburn locks out of Genesis’ face as he heaved a sigh, and Sephiroth was accosted with an urge to facepalm. But before he could do anything however, his partner started moving, up, down, over and over again, building up to a brutal pace as the scarlet-haired ex-soldier fucked himself on the General’s cock. “I-...” A huff of breath. “Am not-...” Auburn tresses fell back onto that gorgeous face that was twisted both in distracted concentration and pleasure. “ _ Delicate. _ ”

It was hard to think past that point.

Hard to form any cognizance past the searing, pleasurable delirium of their copulation. Genesis was cognizant of how to move in a way that drove him to utter distraction. Knew how to draw it out in a manner that had him chasing it instead of resisting it. And Sephiroth was  _ confused  _ but he was also incredibly  _ aroused  _ and his body and his mind did not want to agree on what was best for either of them. His physicality wanted to fuck Genesis until he was gasping his name in that familiar, velvety voice while his psyche wanted to be careful because he hadn’t  _ thought  _ about being careful up until that point. And he also wanted to  _ watch.  _ Wanted to see the arch of that lithe body as it drove itself onto him in a kind of purposeful yet mindless fervor. Wanted to watch as his lover’s cock swelled further between them as he drove them to the brink of ruin and beyond. Wanted to sink himself in those sapphire irises until he couldn’t tell where he began and his lover ended. 

His mouth-of course-was not going to let him do that. 

“I thought-” Sephiroth was forced to break off as a choked off groan forced its way out of his throat. Against his will, his hips moved of their own volition...arched to meet those bruising thrusts and for a moment he could only let his head fall forward against his partner’s clavicle as his mouth hung open stupidly against flushed epidermis. A tight spiral of heat seared down his spine like a lightning bolt and he breathed in forcibly through his nose to keep from embarrassing himself. Evidently, he had misunderstood. Because Genesis was acting like he was hell-bent on forcing him to orgasm before they were five minutes into anything and he was  _ not  _ twelve years old. “Thought-” a particularly wicked downward movement and his eyes glazed over temporarily. “Hurt you” he wheezed. Gritting his teeth he got a firm grip on those decidedly misbehaving hips and forced them to still before thrusting forward-hard. His partner made a noise that was half-startled and half delighted and he worked through it, picked up a series of pointed, full-bodied thrusts. “Nothing about being  _ delicate”  _ he growled.

Searing lips found his in a bruising kiss, more teeth this time, and Sephiroth couldn’t stop the groan of pleasure-pain that Genesis ripped from his throat as those sharp incisors caught on his lips in between their intermittent liplocks. “Didn’t-” Pulling back, the redhead’s visage was wrought in pure ecstasy, the same kiss-swollen mouth forming around a drawn-out moan as the lithe physicality in his hands undulated with his upward thrust. “-mean…” Another, and his lover bared his throat, pearlescent skin beckoning him forward, but the older man had other plans it seemed. “Can’t…” A low growl, and those wicked hips were meeting his thrust for thrust, hard, slapping, and the sheen of sweat glistening on the pale epidermis was a beautiful distracting thing. The owner of the ‘ _ Yes… _ ’ that escaped between them didn’t really matter then. Azure eyes pressed shut, and when they kissed again, Genesis fed him another moan that broke his restraints… Distracted, his hand plunged into a waterfall of molten fire, twisted those long locks just enough so that the redhead had to arch his neck, and the groan he was rewarded with, the look of utter bliss flashing across those euphoric features was so  _ worth it _ … A slight shift, the same angle Sephiroth had been aiming for before their still ongoing bickering, and the exquisite bow of his companion’s back was a magnificent thing, so was the utter abandon with which the former Commander slammed against him. Over and over again... “ _ Gods-s...Seph _ ”, and his lover’s body began growing taut, musculature tensing, and the heat enveloping his cock was getting so deliciously tight… 

Euphoric...the feverish nature of it...driven and forceful and he let himself have it...sank himself into it until his mentality was a streak of pulsating desideratum. Fashioned in fervent, now-sloppy kisses that had their mouths dragging against each other without much grace at all...stuttered gasps and sighs and he was  _ not  _ going to last at this sort of pace. When the realization of it crossed his mind he tried to steady their pace, tried to bring it back from oblivion so they could stay in the moment longer but-unsurprisingly-Genesis was not impressed with it. Sapphire irises shot him a thoroughly unsympathetic look as he tried to communicate his inability to draw it out and then Genesis  _ clenched  _ and he nearly bit through his lip. Again, and any form of temperance he was trying to garner shattered. Vaguely, he heard himself growl even as his fingers tightened somewhat before letting go. And the affectionate challenge was clear in the curve of cerise lips, in the way that his lover repeated the aforementioned gesture whilst tilting his head...scarlet hair brushing a pale shoulder like fire against ivory. 

Somewhere between his attempt to slow them and his partner’s actions, his brain short-circuited. Vaguely, he was aware of the fact that his hands were gripping pale hips...that he’d brought them up short only to briefly withdraw...his hold tightening as he did so. And his redheaded companion had maybe a second to look indignant about it before he was lifted and unceremoniously-though not too roughly-tossed onto the couch...all legs and arms; though not for long. Shoving a pillow under the small of the former Commander’s back, Sephiroth climbed over him...hair dragging along the blue-eyed ex-first’s abdomen as he settled between his legs; hiked one over his shoulder before fumbling slightly...lining his dick up again before he thrust forward into that shuddering heat. Genesis’ back bowed under his ingress, a shocked yet gratified noise falling from his lips as the silver-haired soldier drove forward and kept going...sought that hidden locus of pleasure with a single-minded purpose until the body below him stiffened in response to his evident success. The leg he had left idle tightened around his waist...muscles bunching in reflexive bliss as the younger man lowered his head and pressed it into the crook of a graceful neck...the fingers of his free hand gripping the lithe physicality before him with possessive focus. His breathing was ragged, twisted somewhat with the gratification of it...a ductile thrumming over his tongue as he let it lave the underside of a stubborn jaw. 

It appeared that his lover’s eloquence had fled, and it was with a hint of distracted smugness that he’d realized that he had brought the fiery-haired individual to that point of ecstatic deliriousness...the body undulating and writhing beneath him had apparently turned into a musical instrument. The feel of epidermis against his fingertips, the flowering bruise against the older man’s clavicle… His every movement, touch and adulation was rewarded with purely involuntary responses...a noise between a moan and a whimper...the distracted part of a kiss-swollen maw...the hint of pearl white against rubicund as Genesis tried to bite his lips but the movement seemed to have proven too thought-consuming. Those ivory fingers...sometimes diving in tresses the hue of fire to dishevel them even further as his lover pressed his head into the cushions...sometimes smearing the coagulating ribbons of cum over a pale chest and abdomen, before they could curl around the redhead’s burgeoning arousal...sometimes digging mindlessly in the musculature at Sephiroth’s back, scraping before their purpose was distracted.

Slow… Fast… Slow…

It was a melody of stuttered breath, moans, groans, whimpers and grunts that they were choreographing. And again the former Commander was nearing that point of no return...those blue blue irises seemed to have disappeared behind red-wreathed lids as their owner kept his eyes pressed shut. And Sephiroth wanted… Wanted to see…to drown in those cerulean depths...even as he was already drowning in a desirous ocean of sensations…textures...touch, taste and olfactory senses...his thought processes all vaporized in the searing fire of their passion...his entire body alight with it...out of control...high.

Reaching for a proud jaw, he slowed down again in a brief moment of lucidity...the calm before the storm of their explosive coupling...gazing at the utterly enraptured individual before him, he whispered, voice ragged and hoarse, both with affection and the height of emotion. 

“ _ Gen… _ ” He repeated, hips rolling slowly until the redhead seemed slightly more cognizant. “Look at me.” Sephiroth kept at his languorous pace, willpower and resolve cracking and unraveling at the seams until those auburn lashes fluttered against flushed high cheekbones, and slowly slits of dazed cerulean met his. That was exactly when he chose to wrap his hand around the older man’s straining cock between them; watched with an immense amount of pleasure as those azure eyes widened, something unintelligible falling from his lover’s lips as he started stroking the length of that beautiful hard-on in rhythm with his quickening pace. 

Genesis was thrashing underneath him, back arched and never coming down as the oversensitive flesh of his arousal kept disappearing inside his firm purposeful grip. A few wayward tears were rolling down the corners of those blue eyes but they didn’t break away from his darkening gaze. And when that perfect mouth fell open in a soundless cry as the virile body seized under him, Sephiroth couldn’t help but close his lips over that rubicund maw; steal the breath and the subsequent moan-whimper that bubbled up the flushed column of his partner’s throat. Milky ribbons hit his chest as the older man’s euphoria dragged him under for the third time that day.

He was helpless to follow.

Really, Sephiroth was  _ desperate  _ to follow and when the last throes of the pinnacle of the redhead’s pleasure began to fade he drove deep, lost himself in the depths of it in a continuation of hard thrusts that didn’t last long before he was stiffening. The grunt that fell from his lips was wholly unintentional...it drew itself out into a loud groan as his body was accosted with a too-tight, too-hot feeling, his hips jerking mindlessly. Burying his face in the crook of his lover’s neck he was fairly sure that he saw white...that he couldn’t see  _ anything  _ as his orgasm crashed through him. And the flickering embers of Genesis’ climax milked him through it...drew it from him utterly and completely. He was aware-distantly, that he was shuddering...that the sheen of sweat covering them was a covetous thing...the evidence of their efforts. Sticky and exhausted and so, so  _ satisfied... _ maybe they’d needed this, this culmination of so much of their efforts when it came to being together. He didn’t-however-have the brain power to think it over very much at the moment...barely had the strength to pull out before he collapsed in a boneless heap over his extremely satisfied partner. 

And he was a little bit impressed with his endurance, because Genesis was not exactly a blushing virgin; getting the older man to come twice in the space of a few minutes was singularly a feat of prowess that he didn’t know he’d ever be able to manage again. Realizing that he was getting them both a lot more messy than was necessary, Sephiroth attempt to lever himself up. It took him three tries but he was eventually somewhat steadily balanced on his knee and elbow. Soon after, he acknowledged that the former Commander was dangerously close to passing out right where he was. Lowering his head, Sephiroth let his lips hover just-so above the curve of a flushed cheek.

“That-” he began breathlessly before stopping and trying to collect his train of thought. “...Amazing” he finished inarticulately. 

Genesis mumbled something delirious and he felt his own eyelids droop precariously. Forcing himself to stand, he managed to find his way to the bathroom in order to locate a washcloth and towel. Once he’d dampened the first with warm water and tucked the second under his arm, he made a slightly unsteady path back to the couch where his partner was sprawled in a jumble of arms and legs. Scarlet brows wrinkled somewhat in annoyance as he began the process of cleaning them up, but the older man relaxed somewhat under his touch. Sapphire glinted under red-wreathed lids as the crimson-haired ex-First favored him with a somewhat indulgent smile, his head tilting somewhat as he did so. Sephiroth returned the gesture-a little shyly because he was a little awed-before rising once more to dispose of his hygiene-related possessions. Throwing them in a hamper, he snagged a throw from an armchair and then went through the laborious process of sitting the older man up-which was met with much grumbling-and sliding onto the cushions behind lengthwise and pillowing Genesis’ head against his chest as his former comrade settled himself over his torso and between his thighs. Ideally, he’d have liked to have converted the sofa to its alternative state of a bed, but he was fairly sure neither of them could have managed it in their current states.

“I think I should be sweet to you more often” he said blithely. 

His lover didn’t even seem to have the energy to protest verbally. Instead a pointed chin dug into his sternum for a brief moment as the redhead raised his head to give him a close-eyed grimace. The effect was totally ruined by the pleasure-exhaustion softened features, and soon his lover ducked his head yet again, tried snuggling it under Sephiroth’s chin as he shifted to make himself more comfortable; mumbling unintelligibly under his breath all the while until he seemed to find the perfect position. Relaxing immediately, his partner seemed to have left him alone to drift into the realm of slumber, and the General couldn’t help but find that it was indeed too much of an effort to keep his eyes open himself. Leaning back and stretching his legs out in front of him, he vaguely acknowledged the pleased lax stretch of his lips as his eyelids grew heavier by the minute. Closing them, there was the soft passage of breath playing across his chest, and the warmth of the body tucked against his seeping and nestling inside his bones. With peace saturating every inch of his physicality, and an equally peaceful lover at his side, Sephiroth slept.

It was the first truly restful, uninterrupted sleep he had had in over a year. 


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Genesis had woken up first.

It was still dark, though what time it really was didn’t matter to him.

Getting around the house in the absolute darkness that shrouded it-without mako-enhanced senses-never ceased to be surreal, but thankfully, he knew the layout like the back of his palm; and thankfully he hadn’t collided with anything as he’d made his way to the bathroom. 

Sephiroth had stirred a little when he’d detangled himself from the younger man to get up, mumbled something for the briefest moment those beautiful beryl slits had emerged from underneath mile-long platinum lashes, and promptly went back to the realm of dreams. The small smile that had stretched over Genesis’ lips had come like second nature...involuntary and yet no less genuine and affectionate. 

Standing up, he felt slightly unsteady, and  _ so deliciously _ sore he hadn’t felt like in years… The dull ache that encompassed his entire physicality was so pleasant he hadn’t been able to stop himself from grinning like a damned teenager, or some virgin girl who’d been fucked thoroughly and for the first time in her life. And he had been  _ fucked thoroughly _ , enough that he didn’t even remember his own name by the time his lover had wrung his third orgasm out of him. Thinking about the dizzying heights Sephiroth had brought him to, the things they’d done, sent shivers down his spine and made tiny bursts of electricity course through his body. If he wasn’t so  _ fucking _ sated, he was sure he’d be sporting yet another hard-on by the time the warm aqueous spray of saline droplets hit his body.

Working around his lover’s schedule was slightly harder than Genesis had imagined… Reeve seemed unable to live without having the silver-haired General nearby. The redhead knew that was a gross exaggeration, even based on what he’d gleaned from the bits and pieces of habitual business talk Sephiroth fell back onto. It was understandable, however, because there was so much going on in the headquarters, and the President seemed to need all the personnel around and working an ungodly amount of hours. Sometimes the former Commander shuddered to think about it. They used to pull all-nighters back then, but it seemed to be becoming a new working norm at the Shinra company, though the scarlet-haired ex-soldier could hardly blame them. And he hadn’t even been around to see the majority of the events and efforts they’d put in reforming not only the government but also the infrastructure of how the metropolis was run.

Aside from his partner’s ridiculous working hours and schedule, there was also his own nonexistent working schedule as well. He still went out and played on the streets on weekdays, had a handful of gigs here and there, but whenever the green-eyed First could make time to come to visit, his work was up in the air. Genesis didn’t need the money, but it was better than having nothing to do and going stir crazy from staying indoors for too long. The old him might have resented having to relinquish his job-even as momentary as it was-for the silver-haired man, but the blue-eyed individual couldn’t really bring himself to hold it against their relationship, couldn’t begrudge his partner for it, especially since Sephiroth hadn’t asked for it and it was wholly his own choice and something he was doing of his own volition. It was pleasant getting as much together time as they could and being around one another, especially when they just never seemed to be able to make it work long enough until they could get to the fucking honeymoon phase, past it and finally settle around one another. During the entirety of their relationship, every single time that they’d been getting marginally more comfortable with being around each other, disasters seemed to strike, and they’d be wrenched apart by invisible forces. Sometimes, it felt like they were going against some divine cosmic order by trying to be together. It never deterred him from trying to make them work, but then there was Sephiroth…

Genesis couldn’t forget the images, couldn’t shake the feelings that accompanied their departures and then...their reunions.

Sometimes, he wondered if it was selfish...making the younger man go through whatever he went through every time they crossed each other’s orbits only for the undeniable, inexorable gravitational pull between them to make them collide. But it was hard to resist Sephiroth, it was hard to ignore how the brilliant green-eyed silver-haired individual had gotten under his skin during their years in SOLDIER only to make his home inside Genesis’ bones and reside in his heart. He was as much a part of him as he was himself...and it never ceased to amaze him in its frightening verity. His lover spoke about how Angeal’s death would destroy Vincent, but sometimes Genesis wasn’t sure if the younger man had any idea that were the same thing to happen to the General, the redhead would be devastated, that he’d follow him...even if it was to the grave.

It had been in the middle of such thoughts and his mechanical washing of his sticky cum-tangled hair that he’d felt the exquisite chiseled line of Sephiroth’s body behind him. Felt strong calloused palms against his chest, and he’d been helpless but to shiver and then lean into the touch; to relax against his lover’s physicality, and feel the younger man’s burgeoning desire as he’d been tilting his head back on a broad shoulder. His companion had pulled him closer then, and the peace that had washed over him, the indescribable, unnameable sensation that had bloomed inside his chest was too all-encompassing...made him shudder in the face of it, and an irresistible blissful smile had bloomed on his lips even as his eyes had fluttered shut. And they’d just stood there, in a tangible, unique and so,  _ so _ precious point in space-time…cherished...savored...held as close to his heart as the individual holding him…and the vocable that had fallen from his lips was borne from the depths of his being, tremulous...fragile and tender.

There was nothing after that, no voices, no sound, except for the pitter-patter of water droplets against the base of the tub under their feet. It was almost ethereal, the whole thing. Quiet. A smoldering emerald gaze, ever observant, ever beautiful and brilliant. Genesis wasn’t sure about his own, but he hadn’t been able to tear his gaze away...probably mirroring the same expression as they washed each other in silence; followed the meandering yet purposeful foamy paths their hands trailed across each other’s bodies. Sinew, soft smooth alabaster. 

Kneeling, he’d still maintained eye contact, even as his hands were spreading soap suds down and then up along strong well-built legs; even as he’d parted his lips to take that gorgeous cock inside his mouth, and the minute widening of those curious eyes had made him shiver; made him moan even though he really couldn’t work it up himself.

It was still tranquil.

Even when Sephiroth’s euphoria caught up with him; back bowed somewhat, and left hand splayed on the tiles on the wall. Silver brows furrowed as he chased after the ephemeral bliss and came bitter down Genesis’ throat. Azure irises watched him slowly make it back to Gaia, mouth still enveloping his softening cock before he let him go, and stood up unsteadily with slightly sore knees. Kissed him on a corner of a smiling mouth and left him to get the drowsiness that was bound to follow out of his system with a tepid shower.

Stepping out of the bathroom and getting coffee running even though it was dead in the middle of the night-and who cared about time anyway-he got another tupperware out of the freezer and left it to thaw outside; listened to the sound of the shower running until it came to a stop...then the blow dryer...and by the time Sephiroth was out, with his slightly damp glistening hair, Genesis was housing a mug of coffee in his hands, smiling with his eyes as he went to get another one for his silver-haired lover. Somehow it felt like a transgression wanting to break the silence, especially in moments like these when they felt so close to each other; when it felt like they needed no words, when their actions, their touches and everything spoke clearer and louder than anything their voices could come up with. And yet, as he found himself in yet another  _ affectionate  _ embrace, Genesis couldn’t hold his tongue again.

“Morning, love.”

Silver lashes blinked slowly at him for a moment before green irises softened somewhat; the contemplative nature behind them waning a little at the sound of the older man’s voice. Leaning against the counter with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, Sephiroth accepted the mug proffered across to him with a quiet, appreciative murmur...threads of silver obscuring his visage somewhat as he lowered his head just-slightly to take a sip. Those eyes narrowed in what-so Genesis assumed-was a kind of distracted acknowledgement of the heat on his tongue before he placed the cup back down and rolled his shoulders slightly. Long fingers encompassed the circumference of curved ceramic as the General in interim tilted his head; lips parting as a barely-there sigh of contentment passed through them. 

It was rare to see Sephiroth so relaxed. 

Absentmindedly, the redhead acknowledged that it was the first time he’d ever seen him not vibrating with some successive thread of thought. It wasn’t exactly a secret that his former comrade made up for his silence with a brain stuffed with hundreds of niggling-and occasionally ridiculous-considerations and theorisms. There were times when he wanted to grab the younger man by the shoulders and jiggle him a little bit so he could get his head back in the present. Not that he  _ wasn’t  _ currently thinking Genesis mentally admitted, his gaze sharply observant as his lover took up his coffee again while making a great show of studying the microwave. No, there was just the singular fact that Sephiroth wasn’t thinking of anything direly complex or overly convoluted. He sensed-however-the green-eyed First’s acknowledgement of his words...his appreciation for his greeting despite his silence. So he waited patiently while the silver-haired Soldier in front of him collected his thoughts enough to formulate a response.

“Good morning.” 

Familiar lips curved into the ghost of a smile as his partner spoke, and those beryl irises cut to him...sharply cognizant; pausing as if to memorize every facet of his features before one of those hands left the coffee cup to stretch supplicatingly across the space between them. Genesis took it automatically; because he wanted to...because the feeling of a warm palm sliding against his was familiar in a singularly intimate way. Calluses against callouses, the whisper of flesh against flesh and the almost indiscernible thump of a heartbeat as the tips of his middle and forefinger brushed across the bluish vein on the underside of Sephiroth’s wrist. And it was an ache because they had had so  _ few  _ moments like this...where everything was just...still. But it was a sweet kind of ache; something that whispered of something new...something hopeful. He didn’t know if he could  _ allow  _ himself to hope...but it was there, and that was all he needed for the moment. 

“You’re breathtaking, you know.” When Genesis’ nose wrinkled somewhat at the saccharinity of the statement, the grin that flashed across Sephiroth’s visage was fleeting but genuine. “I just thought I should inform you, in case you’d forgotten.” A teasing eyebrow was raised as the corner of emerald eyes wrinkled slightly in amusement. “Though I doubt it.” 

His mirroring grin ruined the half-hearted grimace twisting his lips, and he half-pulled the hand holding his, half-stepped inside the silver-haired man’s personal space to kiss the saccharine words off those cerise lips. While he’d intended it to be a brief chaste brush of their mouths, the redhead found himself pulled inexorably forward with both a strong arm and the same invisible magnetic threads that connected the two of them whenever they were around each other. It was a lazy thing, lips tasting of the same coffee that was on his own tongue as Genesis closed his mouth over them. 

At this rate, they weren’t going to get anywhere outside of the apartment again...just as they had planned to yesterday, and had stayed in all day instead. Sighing softly and contently, he pulled back but just so he could talk.

“Do you think you can rent a car, a pickup, anything from the company?” 

It seemed to take Sephiroth a few seconds to decide whether kissing him back or replying to his question was more necessary. His gaze remained focused on his lips for several moments before he blinked and appeared to realize that he wasn’t exactly up to par when it came to their conversation. Clearing his throat, the younger man’s brows furrowed consideringly before he opened his mouth. 

“I think so,” he replied quietly. Another pause and the younger man downed most of his coffee in the midst of it. “There’s a private company on the Southern side of HQ. I haven’t used it myself but I’ve heard some of the men talking about it. Apparently, they’re discreet.” Swirling the remainder of the mahogany-colored liquid in his mug absentmindedly, the General in interim straightened in order to make a leisurely path to the sink. “The price has to be right” he added over his shoulder, reaching for the soap. “Evidently they can be a bit underhanded but I imagine you’d rather deal with ‘underhanded’ than ‘public.’ Most of the other establishments require identification of all possible riding parties and some form of legal insurance.” Another stretch of silence, and when his former comrade spoke again, his tone was apologetic. “I’ll need to call in to inform Lazard of my leave.” There was a distinctive  _ *chink*  _ as the now-dry mug was placed back into a cabinet. “Not because I want to but because I think he’ll send a brigade after me if I don’t.” Turning to lean against the sink, Sephiroth smiled and tilted his head. “Did you have someplace in mind?” 

Leaning against the counters, Genesis contemplated the choices they had. They couldn’t stay away long enough to take any place on the Western Continent into consideration, so that was off the table. Any place further south in the Eastern Continent was too far away for what he had in mind, because they’d be on the road for most of their ‘vacation’ if it could be called that even, so that only left Kalm. Because even for Junon, they had to go around the Oldwell gulf, and that added at least half a day to the time they were going to spend on the way. The redhead couldn’t help but purse his lips at the thought of them spending their vacation in Kalm…because well, Kalm was...Calm. Calm enough that he was accosted with a strong urge to roll his eyes. They’d be bored to death there, and honestly, he’d rather stay in Midgar and go around the city hand in hand than go there. 

That only left the southern part of the Northern Continent… Considering that the man currently standing in front of him had shown him with his memories back when they were incarcerated that he’d stripped the continent down to nothing but natural terrain, that meant they could only go to the Forgotten Capital. 

Something must have shown on his face, because a silver eyebrow was arched at him, and Genesis couldn’t help but smile a long-suffering and endearing smile at the aforementioned individual. 

He’d never been to the Forgotten Capital. The place was just another spot on the map which was-as its name suggested-forgotten pretty much. There were a handful scientists in the past, from the recluse kind who lived in Bone Village who’d wandered close to it, and also adventurers but that was just about it. Nobody went there or lived there. As far as Genesis knew, the place was totally deserted. It also wasn’t where people would go on their vacations, because it wasn’t exactly a vacation spot either. But just because no one did something, that didn’t mean the redhead would stay away. In fact, it just compelled him further to do it; his adventurous trait-which had been collecting dust-was awakened and beckoned him to go and explore all that area had to offer. He wasn’t sure that they could do much there beside camping or discovering the place, but he’d never really gone camping with Sephiroth outside military settings either; except for that one time at Banora, which had been such an experience that he was dying to try it again.

Without any further thought, he opened his mouth to finally fill his partner in on what he had in mind. “Forgotten Capital, if you’re alright with it.” His choice seemed to have summoned all his lover’s attention to the forefront; intrigued and with those brilliant gears turning behind beryl irises, Sephiroth listened to the rest of his soliloquy. “Considering the lack of military movement, I don’t think you’d have any gears at your place, so you might have to get us two rucksacks with sleeping bags and rations from the Supplies subdivision, if it still exists, that is. And I could go get us a car while you do.” A pause as he half-turned to stare thoughtfully at the direction of his bedroom. “I don’t really have much to pack, though I think I’d need to get all my clothes to layer up or risk freezing to death.” 

He could still use magic, but that could only get them so far; even with that, he could only maintain it for so long with his diminished resources. “And since we’ve both survived in worse conditions, we might or might not need a tent.” 

Biting his tongue, he omitted that if the silver-haired man hadn’t razed Bone Village to the ground, they could’ve gotten all those stuff from the villagers there, and already be on their merry way. There was no use mentioning something like that, no use tearing open old scars and making new wounds out of them. And they both had many scars. It didn’t matter that the physical ones were gone because of mako or Jenova cells. Riddled with them, they were. 

Pressing his lips into a thin line, he maintained his line of sight as he reached for the ledge of the countertop on either sides of him, gripping it to steady himself, to anchor himself to the here and now. 

It was all in the past.

Thankfully, Sephiroth spoke after ruminating on his words, the deep velvet of his lover’s voice piercing the dark veil of his previous thoughts like a silvery sword. Genesis was grateful for it, found himself mirroring the supplicative gesture his partner had made earlier, and when those fingers brushed along his palm-and further up, his wrist-he felt himself relax even more, all those thoughts becoming naught but phantoms.

“I can get all of that from HQ, yes” he replied quietly. He paused and a troubled, apprehensive look passed over his features before disappearing. “I've never been to the Forgotten Capital, it should be interesting.”

Pulling away, the silver-haired man walked back into the sleeping area before returning with his coat slung over his arm. Silently, the older man observed his lover, his eyes taking in the furrow of his brow...the thin line of his lips. As if sensing his gaze, Sephiroth glanced over to him, his expression morphing into a mannerism that was very deer-caught-in-the-headlights before it was schooled even more determinedly into neutrality. With a bit of wry amusement, Genesis wondered if his lover knew that at this point, it was impossible to hide their emotions from each other. Despite the fact that their relationship hadn’t gotten past the ‘honeymoon stage’ emotionally, there was no denying the fact that they were very versed in each other’s social cues. The former Commander was painfully aware of the fact that his companion’s face was only blank when he was trying to hide something; whether it be a base emotion or debilitating anxiety. Likewise, the General in interim was likely cognizant of the fact that Genesis turned into the human equivalent of a Marlboro when he was furious. 

Long, slender fingers pulled Sephiroth’s comm from his pocket, digits swiping over the keys as he-assumedly-put in a notice of immediate leave to Lazard. It didn’t take long for a series of somewhat frantic chimes to make their presences known, and the bow of those cerise lips turned down into an expression of exasperation before the younger man punched in something much more forceful. After that, no reply was forthcoming, and it seemed like both of them breathed a quiet sigh of relief. They both startled somewhat when the device notification noise went off again about a minute later, but this time the silver-haired First’s expression was quietly fond but at the same time somewhat harried. Again, he didn’t receive a reply to whatever he sent...and this time the silence held.

“Lazard approved my leave,” Sephiroth said after two minutes of standing around waiting for his phone to ring again. “Though apparently he called Angeal and demanded he check in and see if I was losing my mind.” A chuckle. “We’re all clear to leave, but I should go get everything now if we want to be gone by sunrise.” 

Having stuffed the half-thawed tupperware back inside his overflowing freezer, emptied the rest of the coffee and left the assorted dishware on the drying racks, Genesis found himself gravitating toward the younger man as he was getting ready. Though instead of getting caught in his orbit, he passed him by, fingers running along a waterfall of molten silver before his long strides carried him quickly to his bedroom. Stuffing his warmer clothes along with other outfits he could layer on top of one another inside a nondescript duffel bag, he hastily called to the silver-haired individual that he was almost ready to leave with him. 

Remembering to take his forged ID and documents at the last minute, the former Commander sprinted back to the entrance of the house where his lover had been waiting for him for who-knows-how-many minutes which weren’t presumably long enough to sour the General’s mood. Locking the door and standing in the elevator in unanimous silence, aside from the shrill ding heralding the end of their ride, they stepped out into the night.

The air was crisp and cool-just the way Genesis liked it-the streets quiet and mostly deserted except for the staccato of their brisk pace as they made their way toward the towering structure in the center of the metropolis. Reaching the main streets from the outskirts of the upper plate, there were only a few cars cars passing them by once in a while. Sephiroth’s vehement disapproval notwithstanding, the former Commander had taken to walking just outside the curb, hailing car after car in hopes of having one of them stop so they could reach their destination sooner rather than later.

Finally reaching the Shinra tower, his partner had given him directions to the aforementioned private rental company, and taken off to check with the Supplies and getting his own stuff ready. 

It was interesting to see the place open at this ungodly hour. While Genesis might have planned on flirting his way instead of having to cough up a generous amount of money, the rather severe looking man sitting behind a desk and looking grumpily at him-because apparently he’d been enjoying a midnight nap and the redhead had barged right in on it-didn’t give him much of a leeway. And really, all he wanted was to get things done as quickly and as efficiently as he could so by the time Sephiroth’s feet hit the lobby, the former Commander would be waiting inside their rental and impatiently eyeing the car horn more enthusiastically by the minute. 

That didn’t happen, of course.

Going for a FWD pickup with a double cab, though without the seats and with more cramped space instead in case they wanted to sleep in the car; which would probably be really uncomfortable regardless considering their stature. Genesis had signed all the papers and then promptly decided to hell with it; handed over a large sum of money in exchange for the keys and privacy. Finally driving to the front, he’d found his lover already waiting for him. 

The sight that greeted him was quite  _ delightful _ . Two rather awe-struck soldiers-who must have been on guard duty-were trying to give his partner  _ a hand _ by wrenching some of his possessions. Barely holding himself back from howling with laughter, Genesis had hidden his face in the wheel of the car; both to snicker quietly and to hide from the rather displeased, glaring green eyes. The mighty General Sephiroth dismissed the men after they had piled everything aside from Sephiroth’s duffel bag-which he seemed to have managed to retain from the prying hands-in the trunk. Once the aforementioned green initiates were out of sight and earshot, Genesis hadn’t been able to stifle his laughter that morphed into a rather endearing smile as the younger man finally settled inside. 

It was still dark but how long they had before dawn, the redhead didn’t know. Placing his hand on the gearshift, his azure eyes softened with affection as he took in his lover’s visage.

“Shall we?”

The somewhat exasperated expression on his lover’s face softened as he looked at him, as did the tension in his visage. Leaning back in his seat and pulling the belt from one shoulder, over his chest, and down to set it in place, Sephiroth smiled wanly and ran a hand through his hair.

“Yes,” he replied. “We shall.” 

Overall, it wasn’t an unpleasant ride. They took the road North; swiftly leaving the outskirts of the city behind. It was a little bit eerie, to look back at the metropolis and see very little light. From his memories of coming back on away missions, Genesis could recall being able to see the lights of HQ from several miles away. There were-of course-a few backup generators here and there that were running, and the solar panels had restored some light at that point, but it was nothing like it used to be. More absent than that was the eerie green glow of the reactors; the ethereal luminescence of planar essence vaulting into the skies. The difference between then and the present was almost haunting in its stark comparison; like the ghost of something that had once been flickering at the edges of a nostalgic memory. But it was nostalgic in the bitterest of ways...because it was never what either of them had thought it was. 

He didn’t dwell on it, because he wanted to focus on the present. A present where Sephiroth was looking out the window at the stars like he’d never really looked at them before. And the redhead supposed-in reality-he hadn’t. Even on Funaraoi, there was the panic of their incarceration hanging between them...the heavy weight of their pasts and the truth of the future they would have to face together. And while their paths were still a facet of their identities in the present moment, they were also freer than they used to be. Neither of them had really had the chance to slow down...to take in the world around them and appreciate the beauty of it for what it was. It was hard to see beauty in the face of so much ugliness; with the knowledge that so much darkness existed in the world...with the knowledge that perhaps both of them had been part of that darkness. 

“It scares me a little bit.”

Sephiroth’s voice jerked him out of his reverie, and Genesis made a soft questioning sound while keeping his eyes on the road. A sigh, and he resisted the urge to look over.

“Freedom” the younger man clarified. “I don’t know what to do with it.” A quiet laugh. “I suppose...I know that I could have left HQ, could have sought something different. But I didn’t know how to, and I particularly didn’t know how to without you. It was easier to fall back into it...to have a place somewhere I was accustomed to.” There was the rustle of cloth. “But even when I had that purpose, I was always thinking about the things I wanted to tell you, of what I  _ should  _ have told you...things I wanted us to talk about.” The General in interim huffed. “I don’t know where I’m going with this, I’m thinking out loud.” 

Genesis wanted to come up with something quickly enough so the younger man wouldn’t stop talking; because as uncommon as it was for Sephiroth to divulge the thoughts that were circulating in his brilliant head, still rarer it was and unprecedented for the silver-haired First to be thinking out loud. The former Commander wanted to encourage it but seemed to be at a loss for words at the immediate moment. 

Instead, he turned on his headlights briefly to illuminate the otherwise totally dark, deserted road in front of them before tilting his head to regard his thoughtful companion. The silver-haired man missed the somewhat lopsided smile that had bloomed on Genesis’ lips, engrossed in their surroundings and probably his ruminations as he was. The redhead didn’t mind, and the subtle curve remained there on his lips even as he returned his eyes to the road. Instead, he let his hand descend from the steering wheel to the younger man’s lap. 

The former Commander had always known that Sephiroth’s relationship with his freedom was... _ complicated _ , for the lack of a better term. The evidence to that fact was strewn like breadcrumbs throughout their past, but Genesis really didn’t want to dwell on it now; even though those ghosts seemed rather adamant on following them wherever they went…

Tightening his fingers minutely, the redheaded ex-soldier opened his mouth, but it wasn’t to say anything brilliant or remotely sentimental. “I’m here now.” Quietly, he uttered. Another infinitesimal barely there squeeze. “We’re  _ finally _ together.” Turning his hand over in an invitation for those ivory digits to intertwine with his, the older man continued. “I don’t know where you or your mind are going with this,” A brief glance stolen from the gorgeous profile on his right. “But I’d like to hear it, all that you have to say, all that you wanted to. Even if it’s just to hear your voice.” A humorous huff of laughter as he nodded his head in mock-respect. “If you’d find us worthy, that is.”

It was impossible to gauge Sephiroth’s reaction. Not because it was obscure but because he couldn’t very well look over and possibly collide into an outcropping of sandstone. Instead, he opted for auditory observation; the nuance of sighs...the issue of breath. 

“You’re worthy,” was the dry response, before there was another pause. “I...just don’t want to touch on subjects that might be painful for either of us.” Another sigh. “When you...died the first time...and they used the clone on me. Angeal and I-mostly Angeal-carried it through HQ to show people what had been done to you, what Shinra had done.” The younger man broke off and the redhead was trying to figure out why he was breaching the subject when the timber of the General in interim’s voice began again. “Genesis...people...they  _ cried.  _ And I’m not talking about superficial, in the moment crying. There were members of the company, countless members, they  _ grieved  _ you like you were a brother, or a lover...the specifics don’t particularly matter now. But there were people that ran from the room...like they couldn’t bear the sight of it...like everything in their world...you were so much a part of it.” Another stretch of timespace and the crimson-haired man looked over to see that his lover had his eyes scrunched shut. “When you died a second time, I kept thinking back to that...about how many people loved you. I...think you know that people idolize you...but that...that was different...and I never told you about it.”

“Before we were together, I always wanted that, that kind of appreciation, because people were always using me or idolizing me. I don’t know if I  _ knew  _ that I wanted it then, and I don’t know if people look at me like that now, and I don’t particularly care, but there are times that I feel like I took that from you. In the moment...when Angeal and I were walking among them...I  _ knew  _ I had taken it from you.” There was a heavy exhale, something almost verbal in its weight. “I just...every night-almost every night-I would lay down and wonder if you knew you were so cherished….and not just by me. And I think it’s something you should know...not for the sake of you liking anyone or really caring about it. But because I think it’s your right.” A soft laugh. “What I’m  _ getting  _ at, is the fact that I was around so many people who knew you...that made it easier too. Not in the sense of friendship, but in the sense that by staying, I was keeping you with me...even if it was just the memory of you...the memories others had of you. And I know it seems like I’m invested in Shinra, but in a way I was just trying to be close to you...surrounding myself with people who loved you so much.” Another chuckle, this one slightly self-conscious. “I think that’s a little bit stupid, but it bears mentioning.” 

If he had been at a loss before, Genesis didn’t know how to describe his level of his speechlessness at the moment. 

There was the urge to pull over right now just so he could get out and take a short walk, get some chilly desert air inside his lungs and center his thoughts. As it was, he didn’t, instead retrieved his hand and gripped the wheel with both of them, pressed his lips into a tight line and focused straight ahead.

“It’s not stupid.” The former Commander deadpanned and fell quiet yet again. 

He wasn’t upset, he was simply ruminating on the differences between the picture Sephiroth was painting for him and the life he’d lived in Mideel. Maybe when he’d lived in HQ, he’d been too preoccupied, too enmired in the coagulation of his emotions,  _ his self-loathing _ , that he hadn’t noticed people’s feelings toward him. Maybe he’d simply been young and hotheaded, blind in his yearning for the silver-haired man’s affection that he’d just thrown everything else out the window regardless of their worth or their verity; just because they hadn’t been what he’d wanted. Maybe it had been the wrong approach, but he’d also there was also realization that had he settled for anything less, maybe he could’ve fooled himself into believing that he was happy and fulfilled for a time; but it would’ve been a blatant lie. And Genesis couldn’t lie to himself, not anymore, not after being the very offspring of a convoluted, horrendous lie himself.

He’d known that he didn’t truly belong in Mideel during his stay. His home was, as far as he knew back then, gone along with his lover. It was a safe haven, some place to rebuild from the very ground up, focus on himself during the many hours he spent alone on the field or away in nature...where he was closest to his element. Without Sephiroth in his life, without Angeal...he’d learnt to be more receptive to other people’s kindness, to be more grateful because there had been no real reason for the Tanakas to care for him other than their inherent goodness. It had been so long since the last time he’d encountered such hospitality, such selflessness… Since then, he’d been through too many dark thoroughfares and violent endings, had descended into bottomless pits of madness and irreparable despair. 

Or so he’d thought.

Suddenly, he missed Gillian.

Blinking and breathing the sentimentalism away, he inhaled deeply a couple of times, during which he could feel the weight of a green gaze on him. Genesis opened his mouth but had to close it again, because he didn’t know where to start. “Thank-...” Had to clear his throat before speaking anew. “Thank you. For telling me.” A pause which took longer than he’d have liked as he tried to make a decent order of his thoughts, failed, and decided to share them anyway. “I don’t know if it’d make any difference for you to know now, but as I’ve told you before, the men used to admire you...maybe it’s not what you were looking for, but they looked up to you. You were their hero,” A nervous chuckle, and he could feel the heat rising up his neck and dust his cheeks. “You were my hero, and I was but one among the many who-” The former Commander couldn’t help but laugh a little, the mirth tugging on a corner of his lips. “Had feelings for you, of whatever variety, without having ever seen you in person. I imagine if anything were to happen to you during the war, or even after that, the whole Gaia would be lamenting it.” 

“I can see that even now, and it’s more or less the same as it was before. Their feelings for you. I think this time, people love you even more than they did before…those who matter anyway.” The smile on his lips widened slightly. “I’m sure you’re still as oblivious to it as you were back then, but in the past you were godlike to most, more probable to be worshipped fanatically and idolized because of all the propaganda and all your extraordinary feats. Now, I think their perception of you is closer to reality; they see that you’ve been trying to make up for the mistakes you might have made in the past.” A bitter chuckle. “It’s really the worst way to look at it, but people love the redeemed and reformed villains more than they like traditional heroes.” Waving a hand before letting it drop to the gearshift again, he added. “I’m thinking out loud as well, so forgive any inconsistencies.”

There was a pause, and he could sense that his partner was considering his words. He acknowledged-somewhat dryly-that the green-eyed First would consider his words several times... likely for the days to come. Not because there was anything wrong with them, but because it was in his nature to observe things thoroughly...to take things apart and put them back together with careful consideration. 

“They might have been lamenting” Sephiroth said quietly at length. “But...idoliscism... that's all it would have been. The loss of a figurehead. You were... so much more than that.” Genesis looked over in time to see the younger man grimace. “And I know it sounds terrible, but their feelings in terms of my  _ ‘reformation’”- _ He spat the word out like a curse. “-They don't particularly matter to me.” When the younger man continued his tone was softer once more. “And those petty feelings...they don't last. But you had more than that, you showed them creativity, kindness. People remember that sort of thing.” 

Another sigh.

“You're definitely worthy, more worthy than me, certainly. And-in retrospect-so much of our pasts was a lie...but facing it with genuinity...I think that matters more. And you were always genuine... it's one of the things that drew me to you.” A soft chuckle. “In terms of your attitude, I mean. You never sugarcoated anything, that's a valuable trait. So even if Shinra was a lie, you weren't. You were you; simply and sometimes frustratingly. But... that's what always mattered to me. And I'm not dismissing the gravity of it all...I would never do that. But there were intricacies behind it that I never really cared to think about...not until it was all gone.” There was a ruffle of fabric and the redhead startled when a hand touched his shoulder before swiftly retreating. “So,” Sephiroth continued, a gentle kind of warmth in his voice. “Maybe I was your hero, in a sense...but really, you were mine... because you didn't treat me like one.” 

Slowing down and flashing the headlights again, Genesis slowly turned to observe his companion for what seemed like one solid minute; traced the subtle curve of those pale cerise lips and dove in those fathomless emerald pools. He had to turn to look ahead again, but his fingers encircled the pale wrist of the hand that had touched his shoulder only a moment ago; brought it to his lips to place a kiss to the ball of its palm before cradling it on his lap and with his own. “I think we have to agree to disagree about a lot of those things you said.” A wan smile and the briefest of glimpses; not enough to really see anything of his partner. “You say I’m more worthy than you…but it’s not true Seph. A long time ago, you told me that I don’t see myself clearly...but it seems neither do you.” A pause which kept dragging onwards before he sighed. “There’s really no good place to start, because there are  _ so _ many-...” Exasperated, he pulled over, which garnered a short huff of breath from his partner. Not turning off the engine, he shifted so he could face Sephiroth fully. A platinum eyebrow quirked upwards at him.

“Let me start over.” Genesis ran a hand through his hair, looking away as he exhaled because he was back at square one, not knowing where to start. “Sephiroth, you’re a really unique individual...and I guess it might have always been more of a burden, something that’s caused you  _ pain _ ...but it’s just a part of you as your personality, as your stubborn will, as your formidable strength. I understand that what I know about you, this level of understanding we have is a privilege no one’s had…” A trembling exhale, blue eyes downcast. “And I’m grateful...I think I never expressed it, always seemed to take your being with me for granted, but I am… Sometimes I feel utterly blessed.” And the former Commander was positive his cheeks were burning. When he felt the General’s hand on the side of his face, he promptly forgot what he’d wanted to say, and instead came up with the most ridiculous sentence Genesis Rhapsodos could’ve ever uttered. 

“You’re making it  _ really  _ hard for me not to take you on the hood.”

Sephiroth smiled and it was a rare, genuine smile-though fleeting-before seeming to catch himself and looking away. 

“I'm equally grateful,” he replied. “Though I could argue that you're equally unique-but I won't,” he said hastily when Genesis opened his mouth. “At this point,I know better.” A dry laugh. “I suppose we'll have to endure being unaware of our personal qualities together.”

A wordless expanse of time space extended betwixt the two of them but it was comfortable this time, not particularly contemplative or uncertain. The stars were still winking above them like cold, clear lights; but somehow they seemed dim in comparison to the tangibility of the moment. And even though the terrain before them was a blank stretch of seemingly endless nothingness, the atmosphere surrounding them was inundated with enough quiet appreciation to make the fact of it negligible. And it was a new thing between them…such appreciation. Maybe it was what had been missing before...or maybe it had always been there but they'd both been too preoccupied otherwise to really understand it. Or, maybe they were just somewhat more emotionally developed in some areas than they used to be...the specifics didn't particularly matter. 

“I'm not sure the hood would hold.” 

Genesis blinked and looked at his lover, who was smirking mischievously. 

“And then you'd have to pay for the replacement. Though I'm not complaining personally...the concept has great merit and appeal.” 

Turning to look at the hood appraisingly before returning his softened gaze at the man sitting beside him, the former Commander mirrored his lover’s expression before reaching over with one hand. His fingers dove slowly in the waterfall of ethereal tresses that put starlight to shame before curling over the back of Sephiroth’s neck. For the duration of the ephemeral moment that was suspended in between them, the emerald of his lover’s gaze met his azure and they slowly but surely closed the distance between them; those silver-wreathed lids lowered slowly and Genesis felt his own eyes drop to half-mast. The redhead distantly wondered how his partner brought these emotions to the surface of the scarlet-haired ex-soldier’s being...how he couldn’t stop his mouth from curling into the smiles that were reserved for the man before him.

But even those thoughts vanished when they met in the middle, the seat belt cutting into his shoulder blade, but it was inconsequential; unimportant in the face of the warmth blooming betwixt their lips, a cherry blossom flowering slowly, gently...tender, pleasant in its ephemeral tangibility. The moan that escaped the congress of their mouths unmoored his left hand from the wheel, but Genesis had to reign it back before it could unfasten his belt. Sucking on the luxurious, familiar curve of a lower vermillion, the former Commander let go with a soft smack, sighing as he let go. “Maybe later.”

For a moment, it seemed like Sephiroth was going to argue. Those veridian eyes remained focused on his lips...a kind of dazed delirium behind them before they were yanked back to the present once more. Swallowing, the younger man appeared to consider his words before he focused his gaze forward again, a wry smile creeping over his lips. With a considerable amount of inward amusement the redheaded ex-soldier acknowledged that if they had decided to throw down on the hood he wasn’t entirely sure if they would make it to their destination. Sex was all well and good but he couldn’t completely affirm whether he was recovered yet from the night before and there was a good chance Sephiroth wasn’t either no matter how quickly he’d jumped to the idea. Putting the truck back into drive, he returned his focus to the road. In retrospect, they’d made good time...they were-by his estimation-very near to the coast; which would put them about a five minute drive from the intercontinental bridge. If his memory served him correctly, there was a considerable toll to cross, but he didn’t know if that had changed. Beside him, Sephiroth was rummaging around in the glove box, presumably looking for something to eat or read.

His assumptions turned out to be right. Within five minutes, the sliver of the coast was within viewing distance; the glittering waves of the ocean sharply contrasting with the moonlight throwing itself off dark water like sparkling gemstones. The bridge was concrete and heavy-beamed, through the year of its construction escaped him. For the majority of his time in service, he and his fellow Soldiers commonly took a helicopter when it came to long-distance travel. A few times they were forced to use the byways, usually with exorbitantly large envoys or when haste wasn't a necessity. Very few people traveled from the Northern continent regardless, but the bridges were there all the same. It had always struck him as odd that there weren't any fuel stations within close proximity to them, but he supposed that traffic wasn't heavy enough to garner any potential revenue regardless. The toll he'd come to expect was absent, and as they ascended the ramp, they were thrown into a fuller, more encompassing view of the night sky. Here, above the world, it was almost unearthly in its quality. Sephiroth's quiet intake of breath was enough to tell him he felt much the same. 

“It makes you feel so small,” was the nearly-inaudible comment.

If anyone else had said it, he would have assumed it was a sentimental statement...borne of awe. The General in interim’s voice was almost relieved...like the idea of something larger and more beautiful than him was a comfort and not an ominous truth.

“I’ve always had trouble putting you and small together in the same context.” Genesis confessed without hesitation. “You’ve always been larger than life for me.” Glancing behind through the rear view mirror, he’d been about to give voice to his surprise at the absence of the toll booth, but then realized that maybe it had something to do with no one inhabiting the continent, and promptly focused his attention ahead.

“We can still turn around.” The former Commander uttered, slowing down; because here, suspended on the first of the three bridges that connected the Eastern Continent to the North, it felt like they were starting something different...it wasn’t necessarily something beautiful, or hopeful or new. Just that the redhead didn’t know if their destination was going to be fraught with ghosts of a morbid path for his lover, wasn’t sure if Sephiroth was ready to step on the soil he’d painted red and black. There was no need to continue though, because there was simply no need for words.

“No.” 

The response was flat, almost entirely emotionless. Under different circumstances, he might have been tempted to push him for more information, but he didn’t. And he hadn’t seen much of the Northern Continent since their reunion, hadn’t really focused on the destruction around them in favor of his focus in terms of getting to the younger man to exact his revenge. They traversed the majority of the rest of the bridge in silence...each wrapped up in their own thoughts. He’d always marveled at the human feat required to create something so large that spanned such a long distance. Despite the fact that the bridges ran over land...their size was somewhat staggering in comparison to everything around them. It was a little bit like driving over the shoulders of giants...like traversing the stony physicality of a monstrous thing that had stood the tests of time. And it wasn’t like they were crossing pathways to the heavens...merely a causeway from continent to continent...yet somehow the meaningfulness of it was very different.

They spoke little, though they did occasionally talk of idle things. The closer they got the more tense Sephiroth became, and the sense of dreadful apprehension that suffused the air seemed to get somehow sucked into his partner...like it was a great...ugly thing building within him that he couldn’t shake. Those slender fingers were knotted together whenever he glanced over...that perfect visage a mask of neutrality save for the eyes, which seemed almost wild in their foreboding. When he spoke, his answers were gentle and patient but very clipped, as if the act of speech was almost too much in the face of trying to keep himself together. The hours were like water slipping through clutched palms and the nearer they drew the more he wished that maybe they should have picked a different destination...because surely nothing was worth this much anxiety. Genesis tried to keep their discussion casual, tried to draw it away from what was before them even though it was difficult. And it was clear that the silver-haired soldier appreciated it, but he struggled to reciprocate.

He couldn’t really imagine what it was like...the idea of facing what you had done. He’d never had a reason to return to Deepground and didn’t intend to. Facing the carnage he’d left behind...even in the absence of bodies...he didn’t know what that would be like. A little like chasing phantoms...a little like listening to errant screams...he couldn’t really compare it to anything. They’d been through old battlegrounds before as soldiers; picked their way through the spoils of war because they had to. But at the time it was a dutiful thing...something you did because it was expected of you. You got used to it...the smell of death...the impressions of carnage. Destruction on a continental scale...on a single-handed basis, that was something entirely different. And it wasn’t under orders...it wasn’t under anything but blind violence...from despair turned to darkness. Sephiroth had admitted during one of their mind melds that the amount of deaths on his head weighed on him, but he’d never really asked him to extrapolate, never really asked him what it meant. His thoughts evaporated once the shoreline came into view. From what he could remember, there was a small settlement just near the coast...an inn whose name escaped him and a few scattered farmhouses. The rocks on the descending embankment were cracked...but that wasn’t what drew his attention. 

There was nothing there.

Most of the area was wildly overgrown, though the terminology of ‘overgrown’ was questionable when it came to how far North they were. The immediate area was absent of any structural presence save for concrete foundations littered with scorch marks. He assumed-distractedly-that Shinra must have cleared what remained of the rubble away. All that was before them was an open road...sprawling wilderness as far as the eye could see. The sense of stepping onto the continent was that of sincere bereftness...of the fact that there wasn’t a living soul within miles...hundreds of miles. And he’d been to unmanned parts of the world before...but being in an unmanned part of the world that once hadn’t been was entirely different. The sensation of emptiness was bleak...like a wisp of wind curling around the rattling stalk of a dead milkweed plant...shaking it until the dispersal spilled forth seed pods like so much snow. Sephiroth was silent...but it was a horrified kind of silence...the silence of a man seeing his deeds laid bare before him as they had never been before. And the former Commander wanted to say something to dispel the spell that seemed to have crashed down upon them, wanted to push through this so they could get to the reason they’d taken this trip in the first place.

But what to say seemed to be the question of the century. 

Genesis knew that whatever he might have to say, whatever his brain could come up with won’t do any good. Glancing with unmasked worry at the man sitting beside him who could’ve as well been a statue if the former Commander simply didn’t know him-beryl eyes glued to what greeted them ashore Northern Continent-the redhead made up his mind. Switching the gear, Genesis pushed on the accelerator, not all the way but enough for their vehicle to be maneuverable as he swerved from the main road and into the wilderness. 

It would add to their distance and the time they had to travel to reach their destination, they might even face monsters on their way-if there existed any-but nothing,  _ nothing  _ was worth seeing that haunted look on Sephiroth’s face… And if the sudden change in the scenery wasn’t enough for his silver-haired lover to snap out of it, the rather bumpy and uneven ride might be jarring enough after the couple of hours they’d spent over impeccable asphalt and concrete. Reaching over blindly to intertwine those ivory fingers with his own, the older man cradled them with his before placing their joint hands on the gearshift in what he hoped was a grounding gesture. Genesis kept his eyes on the road and his headlights on as he sped through the uneven terrain that expanded before them; determination to pass everything by as quickly as he could so they’d reach their destination with their psyches intact burning inside him. 

Biting his lower lip, he tried to stifle the litany of curses that wanted to escape. This was his fault. Instead, he tried something else, unsure if it’d work, but he had to. Sephiroth was still unresponsive beside him. 

“Sephiroth, I’m alive, you’re alive. We’re together now. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” Urgent, streaked with worry, and yet firm. Or so he hoped.

The exhalation beside him was so loud he jumped. It was the first noise that the younger man had made in a while and the volume of it was startling. He sensed rather than saw his partner lean forward, until his head was nearly flattened into the dash but not quite. Familiar fingers grabbed his knee, though not in a sense that was distracting...merely in an anchoring sense. And the digits currently in contact with him were trembling slightly, the anxiety behind them clearly apparent. More apparent still was the ragged manner of the silver-haired man’s breathing...the way he clearly wasn’t getting enough air in his lungs despite the fact that he was desperately trying. Grimly, Genesis determined it was probably better if he pulled over; because if his partner passed out while he was at the wheel that was going to put a serious damper on things. As he reached over to put the vehicle in park...got his hand on the stick and prepared to come to a screeching halt the hold on him lifted so a clammy palm could press over his and hold it still.

“Don’t.”

Sephiroth’s voice was ragged and somewhat shaky but at the same time firm. As the older man tried to work out what was going on, the General in interim straightened, and this time he seemed to be more collected. 

“Keep driving,” was the raspy continuation. “I’ll be fine.” A pause. “I...appreciate that you’re here...with me.” When the former Commander opened his mouth to protest, his lover overrode him. “Genesis, it’s okay. I’m okay, we’re okay. I just...need to get past this.” 

Genesis spared another worried glance that screamed that he wasn’t convinced at all but was deciding to keep his mouth shut for the time being. Letting go of the stick, the redhead splayed his hand slowly-with as much tenderness and care as he could muster-against the younger man’s chest, over his heart, and gently pushed him back even more inside his seat. 

“Hang on tight.” A gravid pause as he let go just as tentatively as he had placed his palm over where his lover’s heart was beating, the former Commander gripped the wheel. “Just, hang on.”

With his focus solely on getting them to Forgotten Capital in as little time as possible, and also safely, the azure-eyed ex-First watched the scenery zip past them: choppy overgrowth and wilderness morphing into disperse scattering of trees that were silhouetted against the indigo of the welkin. The path in front of them was illuminated by his high beams and also the cold indifference of the celestial bodies. Genesis didn’t know what was spurring him into this mindless hate, because never before had he had any feeling other than awe and fascination when he was in nature. Maybe it was the realization that probably the same Goddess that hadn’t let him die in the aftermath of the Omega incident-that was probably watching them from her lofty heavensward station-had been the one who’d so bitterly taken away everything Sephiroth had had during his time in the Lifestream. That she’d been the one who had ripped through his lover in the same manner Hojo had, merciless, only to fill him with so much abhorrence that it had brought his partner to such extremes.

And maybe now was not the time to feel such negative emotions; maybe he shouldn’t, even if it was just for the sake of the silver-haired individual sitting beside him, for the sake of the love he felt for him inside his heart...but Genesis  _ did feel _ that detestation for the deity he’d once worshipped. And he twisted it into a sense of urgency, of purpose...of arrival, just because he could then gather his companion in his arms...to try and-even if it was failingly-soothe him.

By his estimate they had a couple of hours ahead of them, but he wasn’t really keeping track of time; the passage of chronology was only marked by the short glances he could afford in between the more even parts of their unbeaten path. 

And finally, they were here… finally reached the threshold of the Sleeping Forest.

Beautiful. Magnificent. 

Timeless.

Exactly. It was timeless.

It had stood there for who-knows-how-many years, and it was going to be there long after they were gone. His lover, his well being, on the other hand was his number one priority at the moment.

Coming to a none too gentle screeching halt, Genesis quickly rid himself of the belt. Finally broke his fast with a vehement, urgent  _ ‘Fuck!’ _ as he got out of the car, strode around the front and yanked the door on Sephiroth’s side open. He had to hold the metal frame to keep himself upright because he totally felt like he was walking on air for half a minute.

“Seph…” And he hated how his voice sounded. “I’m sorry-I’m so so sorry.”

It seemed to take a great effort for the younger man to pull himself from his thoughts...to throw himself back into the present. Silver brows furrowed in confusion...an expression of bewilderment marring that otherwise beautiful face. And even in its incomprehension it was somehow eerily pristine in an innocent, almost childish way that made him want to either weep or shake the individual before him. Because-by all merit and right-Sephiroth should be  _ angry  _ at him. Angry at him for bringing them here, angry at him for making him relive such a painful facet of his past, angry at him for dragging him out here only to have to endure this. And he hadn't meant it that way, and some part of him that knew the General in interim well enough at this point already knew that his lover would never take it that way...that he would never place blame where it might or might not be due because that's not who Sephiroth was when it came to him. Because Sephiroth could create something from nothing...from a terrible emptiness and spread it forth because that was what he always did...for him. 

“Genesis,” was the low baritone reply. “You're an  _ idiot.” _

It was such an off-color statement, so dryly put in a situation so full of anxiety and remorse that the redhead didn't know what to do with it. A part of him shriveled with it...even though the context was affectionate, even though the tone behind it was anything but cruel because he was panicked and confused and concerned. And he couldn't do anything but stand there and blink and try to dispel the hot-cold feeling in his chest as his former comrade got out of the truck, as he drew level with him and cupped his face in his hands...green eyes boring into his. 

“Genesis,” Sephiroth repeated. “This is not your fault... _ it's not.  _ I had to face this at some point, and I'd rather face it with you, with someone who cares…who understands pain and suffering like this.” A palm left his cheek to draw him closer, to wrap around his waist until they were toe to toe. “And it's not my fault,” was the continuing statement. “Not in the sense of now, it's no one's fault... it's a memory.” A slight downturn-on the left side-of sanguine lips. “And it's hard, it's painful...but it's not your fault that it's painful. We're here to do this together.” A gesture at the forest. “That... that's beautiful, I want to make it more beautiful with you...I want to create something new from something old.” A slight tremor in the fingers still touching his jaw. “But I do need your help doing it” was the nearly whispered statement. “I need you to believe we can make this different.”

It seemed ineloquence was becoming his new habit. Glancing toward the ethereal glow of the forest before taking in the beautiful visage in front of him, gazing into pain-laden emerald depths, his right hand rose of its own accord to cradle a pale smooth cheek, a thumb caressing slowly just under where platinum lashes were dusting high cheekbones. And Genesis couldn’t help but clench his jaw and purse his lips as he thought about how,  _ just how _ unfair it was...because if they had been normal people, they wouldn’t have had to shoulder so many nightmares...there wouldn’t be so much blood and countless corpses littering their past; there wouldn’t be as many ghosts waiting around dark uninhabited corners of the world, waiting to pounce on them as they passed. They wouldn’t have had to face as many trials as they had. They might even be dead by now...another faceless, nameless body in the Wutai War, or maybe living a happy ignorant life.

More cruel it was to think how many more times they’d have to break until they could either reach a state of equilibrium in their brokenness, or finally be able to fix themselves. To be able to take each keen shard with bloodied fingers and put it back into place...to use the gold-platinum essence of their love and pour it through the cracks of the kintsugi of their psyches until it would be enough...just  _ enough _ .

And yet...with everything that had happened...despite all their bizarreness, their right and wrong choices, they were here together...and he had to thank their alienness for it. Because had they been any less of the people they were, surely they’d have fallen short somewhere...succumbed to all that made them into who they were now. Genesis couldn’t bring himself to regret any of it, couldn’t bring himself to wish for the time to go back so he could change anything.  _ No...  _ He was content, to be here, to be in the now, with Sephiroth beside him, facing whatever the future held.

So, it was with salinity misting his eyes that he pulled his lover close in a tight embrace, to just  _ feel _ him…to have him near. It occurred to him that maybe they’d never had something like this. Or maybe he’d never fully appreciated their proximity, their intimacy. It filled him with a profound feeling…a feeling of…

Shaking his head and sniffing as a tear made a lonely trek down his cheek, smiling even though Sephiroth couldn’t see it, Genesis uttered quietly. “Yes, I do. I do believe in us.” With his voice trembling, he buried his face in the silvery mane, breathed in until his lungs were full of the scent that was his lover’s and his lover’s alone; cherished the strong presence that was so uniquely Sephiroth’s as he continued. “Anything you need...anything…I’m here.” Still not letting go, the redhead let his words sink in the alleviating quiet between them for several moments. “We should go to Deepground sometime.” The former Commander blurted out in an attempt to make the atmosphere less severe, his tone humorous and yet he couldn’t help but cringe at his words. Hastily trying to right what he’d said, he added. “Joking and unintentional therapeutic experiences aside, it is beautiful here, nowhere near as beautiful and ethereal as you, but once we get there, it’d be easy to remedy.”

Warm palms gently drew him back until emerald eyes could study his visage. They drank in his expression, and sometimes he wished that Sephiroth would just  _ stop thinking… _ but at least his thinking meant that he wasn’t being hysterical anymore. 

“I’m glad,” was the warm response. “And no, no Deepground.” This statement was followed with a quiet chuckle even as long fingers threaded through the former Commander’s hair. “The fact that you’re here is enough.” 

Genesis could still-minimally-sense his partner’s tension. It was in the just-slightly rigid posture of his spine, the way he was holding himself. At the same time, he got the impression that this  _ was  _ helping, though in what way he couldn’t fathom. And they always ended up here...like two candles in a world of darkness. Bizarre in that breathless and powerful way...inherently alien and yet somehow still unified. He wondered what the odds were...of them always coming full circle like this...of how many things had to happen exactly the way they had happened in order for them to find each other again. Maybe it was Fate...maybe it was something else...something more earthly and simple. And he hated to accredit love, because love was something he had always avoided in the past because it was painful and vulnerable. But there wasn’t really any other terminology he could fit this under...because it was such a sweet far thing that he didn’t always know what to do with it. When his partner pulled him back into him he closed his eyes...because it was a known sensation...a comforting sensation. 

“Do you think,” Sephiroth muttered into his hair. “That when we're old and decrepit our lives might be toned down a notch?” 

Making a half-disgusted, half-incredulous face, he pulled back just enough for the silver-haired man to see the expression twisting his features. His efforts promptly fell apart with the image he was accosted with in his head about how horrendous he might look to his companion at the moment. Giving the younger man’s bicep a playful smack, Genesis pulled back. “I don’t want to get old and decrepit. I’ll join Shinra’s Science Division if I have to just to find a way not to age.” A humorous pause as he made his way to the other side of the car, raising an eyebrow as he fluttered his eyes closed and twirled his hand with mock-flourish. “Genesis Rhapsodos needs his timeless beauty.” Reaching the door, he paused to gaze at the green-eyed individual observing his theatrics. “Though the image of you lounging on a rocking chair with reading glasses while you bicker with me about where I’ve put your sword is rather interesting.” 

The subsequent beaming grin that pulled on the seams of his lips felt like it was cracking his face in two. The former Commander couldn’t deny his lover that, couldn’t stop the genuinity of his mirth as it burst forth...wishing it would be contagious, even as its keenness softened into glittering smiling azure eyes. Sephiroth's answering smirk was affectionate and a little bit exasperated. 

“If I ever get so old that I can't remember how to summon Masamune, do me a favor and put me out of my misery,” he said dryly. Silver brows furrowed in teasing consideration. “Though,” the General in interim continued, his tone playful. “I suppose in my advanced age my hearing might have deteriorated enough that I wouldn't be able to hear you yell at me.” A sigh of false contentment. “Can you just imagine it? You could scream to your heart's content and I would never know it unless you were standing right in front of me.” Another pause. “Though by then I might have cataracts, so you'd have to stand quite close.” Green eyes drifted to the older man's head. “I reckon your hair would be a good marker for locale. If I saw a blurry red splash moving in my direction, I'd 'fall asleep’ in my rocking chair and you'd never be the wiser.”

Genesis tried his damnedest to keep a straight, angry visage; the tight line he’d pressed his lips into and his narrowed eyes, however, were unraveling at the seams as laughter started bubbling up in his chest. Shaking his head as yet another grin broke on his face, the former Commander opened the door on his side, mumbling a ‘Get in before I change my mind and leave you so you can fly to the Forgotten Capital.’ as he took his seat. Watching the younger man follow his suit while his fingers pulled the seatbelt over his shoulder and in the lock, the redhead reached over to put his hand on Sephiroth’s lap, sobering up as he queried; his tone concerned despite all the absurd words they’d exchanged.

“Are you- _ will _ you be okay?”

Silver hair drifted over a lithe yet muscular shoulder as his partner favored him with a wan smile...only the barest vestiges of tension remaining. It made his heart ache a little bit, because when they’d first met...he’d failed to recognize how stringently high-strung the at-the-time General was. ...Had failed to acknowledge that despite his youth, there were ghosts behind those emerald irises that no one could possibly have known about. They were still there, healing with hope, hidden by the happiness...just like his. Memorial pathways were like scars...with byways behind the eyes that glared in dark moments. Here, at least, they were faint...and he could only hope that they grew fainter...for both of them. And it was a little bit like housing a terrible secret, a little bit like acknowledging that such secrets were never meant to take form because the unfairness behind them was bitter like frost. Moving on wasn’t an option, it was a  _ need,  _ one that they both required...despite everything that had come and gone. A heavy thing...a thing of great and terrible beauty that coalesced into something furled...like the bloody inside of a rose. 

Maybe...they were blooming...finally. 

“Yes.” 

_ Yes _ . He would be alright. Revving the engine, Genesis couldn’t say what gave him such surety...but it was a verity in his mind. Stability was a necessity between them, maybe not in the sense of emotionalism, but in the sense of perseverance. Because if there were ever two people who had learned to persevere...it was them. The forest was before them...pale and effervescent and in some ways  _ alive  _ like nothing else was. Somewhat morbidly, he wondered whether the Planet kept the treasures of its verdance so remote because humans were so prone to destroy that which was beautiful. It was a little ironic...the fact that one of the most pre-eminent races on Gaia could take such loveliness and crush it beneath fingers that were so deceptively fragile. At least they hadn’t come with the intent of destruction...at least they were bent on something that was somehow more than the summation of their history. Putting the car into drive, the redhead acknowledged that yes...things were getting better...things would be alright…

_ They  _ would be alright. 

Forward.

The main path that connected Bone Village to the Forgotten Capital was behind them, the asphalt road presumably ended miles ago, and yet, the dirt beaten path was more even compared to the bumpy ride they had taken ‘round any major settlements that could’ve brought more nightmares to the forefront of his lover’s focus. The treeline was approaching and Genesis couldn’t help but slow down as they neared it; cerulean irises roaming the beauty he hadn’t really had the chance to appreciate up until now, preoccupied as he’d been with the wellbeing of his partner minutes ago. But now, the former Commander could savor it, revel in the almost alien splendor and majesty of the forest that expanded in front of them.

Luminescent, white branches glowing with a soft ethereal hue sprouted heavenwards from the dark embrace of earth, reaching out to the star-studded welkin with willowy limbs that seemed to beckon them inwards and warn them to keep away in a nonexistent breeze, at the same time.

Past the outward borders of it and inside the jungle, Genesis rolled his window all the way down, listened in to the quiet that was, eerily, not tranquil at all. 

Despite the frozen appearance of it, the frigidity of the atmosphere, the barrenness of the soil-apart from the dark leafless bushes that sprung here and there alongside the road, every once in a while scratching the sides of their vehicle as though in an attempt to keep them from progressing further-the Sleeping Forest wasn’t asleep at all. It was alive in ways the redhead couldn’t bring into the realm of words, speechless and totally amazed at the wondrous beauty of their surroundings as he was. There were bright specks of pearlescent light emerging out of thin air in their wake, much akin to fireflies that they might have stirred with their passage… Everything seemed to buzz with some dormant verve that was coming to life in response to their presence, to their ingress...as though this was a sacred ground they should have paid tribute to before entering...as though it was a holy place they had no right to trespass, and now they had.

They moved ahead at a snail’s pace, and the former Commander was nearly crawling out of his window, would’ve climbed up onto the roof of the car if he actually didn’t have to drive and utilize his right foot for stepping on the gas pedal. Of Sephiroth’s presence to his right, he was cognizant, on a psychic level without even having to tap into their mental bond, and his partner seemed to be just as mesmerized and absorbed by the one-of-a-kind phenomenon that now expanded in every direction. 

Genesis was accosted with many feelings all at once. Aside from the profound sense of awe that was on the forefront of his brain, there was this perception, this image of being insignificantly small; of being naught but a speck of dust, more unworthy than the earth they were displacing by the rolling of their car tires, something inherently worthless...enough to be crushed out of existence should he follow in the same steps of his ancestors in trying to destroy the physical manifestation of the metaphysicality of the planet. That notion brought forth a sense of retaliation, of wanting to prove his worth, of pushing out of his corporeal bonds in a coagulation of stubborn will, darkness and rage, to claim what he could, simply because he had the power, because he was born to rule over the earth.

“Genesis.” 

Snapping out of whatever trance that had him enchanted, he had to quickly step on the brakes, coming to a slow halt just several feet short of a lake surrounding a strange helical structure.

The Forgotten Capital.

The first thought that came to mind was glass. Because the surrounding environment was so translucent and phantasmic in its quality it seemed as if a mere touch would shatter it into thousands of pieces. Glittering tree limbs danced upwards into the black abyss of a dark sky...surrounded by water clear and and bright as crystal. It was a little bit like walking through a snow drift...the silence...that sense of oppressive oneness with nature folded in on itself...but somehow it was different. There was a clarity to it that was so acute it was like standing on a razor’s edge...like hovering over something so large it was unfathomable. You could run your fingers through it...touch it and it would be somewhat like velvet and frost, taste it and it would be like drinking from the coldest of mountain springs brought down from glacial heights. Airless and yet somehow thicker than tar, like fine wine at the back of the throat. In the center of it all was a structure that reminded Genesis somewhat of a conch shell...all smooth-sharp edges...yawning crevices carved with alabaster finesse. If it was an instrument the sound of it would have been thrumming through his bones...vibrating through his synapses like the lowest and strongest of musical notes.

There was the sense of years gone...of something missed that could never be replaced. Of steps echoing across ivory curvatures and pale formations. Genesis never put much stock behind ghost stories, but spirits were a different concept. This place was rife with spirits...and if not with them with the footprints of their memories. Of whispered prayers...of hope and supplications...to what? To a Goddess that had by now surely turned her back on Gaia? And it was bittersweet, because the Genesis of so long ago’s Goddess was not here...he didn’t know if she had ever been anywhere despite this fervent belief. But here, now...surrounded by such beauty he couldn’t help but think that this somehow made it worse...because if she did exist...this emptiness was because she didn’t act...even if it was a gorgeous emptiness. 

All the beauty in the world before them...and still they were unwanted.

It wasn’t a violent or vicious sense of intrusion. No...the watchfulness around them was that of a weary resignation, a tepid rejection that was somehow worse than any type of potent repudiation would have been. It was wrought in the trees first and foremost; in a litany of breathless sighs that were not unlike windchimes brought on a breeze from far, far away. And you couldn’t catch what they were saying...merely barely discern the half-formed melody of their breathy discontent...like snatches of song from deep, deep underwater. Turning his head...he could see how the light played across Sephiroth’s features, observed as it crawled into the strands of his hair and seemed to set it alight until he was a pale...insubstantial thing beside him...like a being of stardust thrown down and cast into something he could never be akin to. And those green eyes looked at him like he was much the same...like he didn’t belong but he was somehow more  _ beautiful  _ than that which was around them. 

And all of a sudden, something shifted inside him...the beauty surrounding them reflected in the individual beside him was made tenfold...as though Sephiroth caught it like a precious gem catching astral light before reflecting and refracting it. Genesis couldn’t help but think that if he were to verbalize the thought which whispered that the magnificence of the world expanding around them was insignificant compared to his lover’s, it’d be taken as some sort of sacrilege. But then again, he wasn’t really a believer… He’d traded his religion and beliefs long ago just to have Sephiroth’s love…

_ ‘The stars turn before thee, and the mountains of my heart have fallen…’ _

_ ‘...We are not alone in the essence of eternity… But I would catch the sunlight of the most distant body, to keep your heart.’ _

Words had no place here…and when their eyes caught one another, having stepped out of the car without even realizing it, Genesis couldn’t help but reach out a supplicative ‘hand’ through their bond in order to hear and be heard.

During the moment it took for him to be answered, as he let cerulean irises drink in the sight of the individual before him, the redhead couldn’t help but feel being the only one out of place here; like he was the son of man walking upon the realm of the gods, and Sephiroth...and Sephiroth was the  _ most beautiful  _ manifestation of otherworldly beings in the heaven he was trespassing through. It was like he was seeing his lover for the first time in his life… The imagery of his presence within their psychic bond reflected in the corporeal world: luminescent skin and a waterfall of moonlight tresses. It was enough to bring him to his knees, made it impossible not to  _ give in _ to the gravitational pull of the invisible threads that tugged on his physicality and his soul and drew him toward the silver-haired individual.

And Genesis  _ wanted _ .

Wanted Sephiroth like he was the forbidden fruit of knowledge and verity, wanted him like he was the essence of life and maybe he shouldn’t, _maybe he shouldn’t_, but he was the son of man, and he was weak-willed and greedy. Here, the younger man’s emotions were easier to discern...easier to unravel...like pushing through tall grass to get to the heart of a clear...tranquil clearing filled with winking lights reminiscent of hitodama. His surprise was the first evident sensation he could garner, and for a moment the blue-eyed ex-First felt a bit guilty for entering without verbal permission...but that surprise quickly bled into a kind of amused affection bordering on the ridiculously fuzzy. The General in interim’s psyche was a mix of muted colors as it normally was...soft blues...spiraling silver...touches of onyx. His focus was somnolent...mostly serene though the serenity-he suspected-was more due to the given moment than anything that really had to do with a facet of his personality. His reaction to the younger man’s presence appeared automatic...the manner in which his mentality rose to embrace his...like two raindrops coalescing on a sill to become one. 

Soon after that, Sephiroth picked up on his psychic lust. 

And Genesis had somewhat expected reticence...had expected uncertainty because this was something they hadn’t tried. But his partner’s cerebral pathways were suddenly the hue of a blazing sunset...curious and seeking as they swept forward to intermingle with his in trails of solar-esque fire. And arousal was  _ different... _ somehow stronger but metaphysical in a way that left him shivering down to his core. His former comrade’s passion was a wave...curling into his...welcoming him in a manner that physical contact couldn’t compare to. And it wasn’t  _ better  _ but it was exotic, like tasting something foreign and pleasing on the tongue only to chase the flavor in search for more. Sephiroth’s unconscious presence was steadily taking form, was becoming more of a felt thing and less of a metaphorical thing as their minds collided in a rush of heat. 

Like the first spark of sulfur against the side of a matchbox, and they caught fire… The world exploded in a kaleidoscope of sensory information, passages of breath, emotions and sensations...of touch, taste, smell, hearing and sight...everything streaked like trails of paint in the aftermath of a paintbrush against the canvas of their minds...painting effervescent hues of their passion…psychical and physical rolled up in one and yet separate...cognizance and incognizance of their physicalities coming together in an unholy dance in a sacred place...of sacraments that were sacrilegious.

And Genesis worshipped Sephiroth as one would worship a god…trembling and reverent, mouth forever parted in adulation and prayer against the holy grail of his pearlescent skin, against the cherry blossom of those luxurious lips. His love was the redhead’s religion, their coition a ritual… 

Moonspun tresses haloed around a head of silver as it disheveled the full circle of moonlight against the blanket they had thrown on the hood, and with it their world tilted…everything twisting in a vortex of color, of heat, of insatiable want and desire, and then dive...breaking the water surface of pleasure and further into the depth of an ocean of affection and love.

The arch of his partner's physicality was a silver crescent his mind...the music from his mouth a series of muted, shivering trails that vibrated like the strings on a cello. In the throes of it, Genesis acknowledged that it was a little bit  _ terrifying _ ...the sense of intimacy...the concept of such solid oneness. He couldn't concentrate on it, however... could only allow his actions to give the moment an edge... like the sweet-sour of something nonetheless delicious. It spilled over his tongue like a long-lost line of poetry, shuddered under his figurative fingertips until they were caught up and sucked into hot, wet warmth. Adulant... like sunlight dappling over water... temperance coupled with a strange serenity. 

_ “Yes…!” _

He might have done violent things to be able to hear Sephiroth gasp like that in the physical world. And it was overwhelming because he could  _ feel _ everything the younger man could feel. Sephiroth's pleasure was Genesis’ pleasure and vice versa. It was a loop, a shimmering figure eight like the infinity symbol…dripping gold and a hazy edification of blissful abandon. 

It was hard maintaining anything when everything was a whirlpool of too much and not enough but  _ soon…  _ The tapestries they created kept flipping like pages of a book left out in an open field, and as hard as it was, the redhead tried… took that shimmering thread of silver-red light, that green-blue can of paint and painted a meadow… planted the seed of their affection and their euphoria; and as their rapture mounted, watched it grow… gazed into those emerald oceans and drowned inside their recognition and surprise as the pleasure drizzling down his spine poured like rain… The tree of life Sephiroth was imbuing within him getting more perfervid, stronger, taller and branching out...higher and higher, up to his cerebral cortex and into his brain. All-encompassing... And with every ‘ _ Seph… _ ’ that bloomed over his lips, a floret adorned its numerous white limbs…an ethereal tree dissimilar in its fecundity, and yet very much alike the ones witnessing their coalescence; the birth of their oneness on a level that was unprecedented. 

Afloat and drowning at the same time, the culmination of their dance came with those wooden limbs auscultating and oscillating with his frenzied thrusts...scattering cherry blossoms across the field…in pink dappled epidermis and ribbons of white… 

A muted cry to the moon, and all was silent...still...crystalline and translucent like the clearest of waters…like the snowy trail of a comet streaking along the indigo dome of the sky, sprinkling stardust and shrouding them in a shimmering sheen of somnolent diamond droplets.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

It was strange being so far away from it all.

Shifting in his sleeping bag, Sephiroth stared up at the stars and wondered-somewhat childishly-if they were perhaps staring back. He’d entertained the thought before in his youth...when he was allowed a rare moment outdoors. The idea that someone, or something, might be looking back at him had been comforting in an infantile, desperate kind of way. Like the individual or being thousands of lightyears away whose planet was a mere speck in his vision somehow understood him more than the dozens of lab techs he was surrounded with on a daily basis. Like ‘they’ were both lonely and desperate and seeking. Looking to his side, at the swatch of scarlet hair peeking out from underneath the down of a coverlet...he wondered if maybe he and Genesis had looked at the sky at the same time and somehow seen themselves written in the constellations. Maybe a redheaded, blue-eyed boy had stared up into space and wished for something...something greater...something better than what he had. Furrowing his brows, Sephiroth shook himself from his fantastical and somewhat sentimental thoughts.

It was...different being here. He’d never been the type of person to seek out something beautiful just because he could...because the experience, the sociability, and the leisure of it was pleasing. Some small, ingrained part of him insisted in a rather stern sort of way that he really ought to be doing paperwork. It was difficult to separate duty from who he was and who he wanted to be. Realistically, he just wanted  _ peace... _ and he didn’t necessarily want peace when he was surrounded by others...he just wanted peace with Genesis. It was-of course-entirely different to wish for something than to have it...but he did have it. Sometimes he had it to a degree that it didn’t really seem real...didn’t seem substantial or wholly just. Because how could someone like him deserve someone like the individual currently snoring beside him? And it didn’t matter that Genesis could be irascible, somewhat flighty and extremely hard-headed. What  _ mattered  _ was that Genesis was honest, clever, and witty. He wondered-somewhat bewilderedly-what he had done in his life to garner such privilege.

Sephiroth knew-instinctively-that if he told his redheaded companion this he’d be risking life and limb...but he occasionally couldn’t help turning it over in his mind.

And his thoughts were clearer here, somehow inundated with greater clarity, which gave him the ability to think about several things at once with no concerns in terms of whether he was overwhelming himself or not. Beside them...the giant...fluted alabaster shell was a backdrop to his ruminations...inundated with a quiet kind of energy that made him want to get up and explore it because sleep was pointless. His body was exhausted but his mind was not, and the inconvenience of it wasn’t doing him any favors. The former Commander had practically collapsed onto their shared sleeping bag after they’d gone through the process of dragging everything out. Out of unspoken agreement, they left the tent because the thermal quality of the sleeping bags was resistant to the cold, and there weren’t great clouds of insects floating around despite the presence of water. It was nice to be able to be surrounded by nature on all sides without the irritation of environmental factors. Shifting somewhat, the silver-haired soldier grimaced and maneuvered himself downwards so he could pull his socks off. Beside him, Genesis muttered something before resuming his snoring. 

Psychic sex was...idiosyncratic. 

Not in a bad way, just in a definitional way. Sephiroth wasn’t submissive by nature, but there were facets of his personality compared to his partner’s personality that were inherently less assertive. He was a General...yes, but Genesis was a  _ leader  _ in a more powerful sense than he was...would likely have been a better General than he had been because he was also personable and socially tactical. In the throes of dualized mental ossification, his willingness to yield was practically like tinfoil. It had crawled out of him...burst forth in a manner that he couldn’t control even as their physical bodies made their way to the truck and he lay backwards on the blanket spread over the hood. Because his partner’s psyche was fire and his was ice...melting...giving way to him in a helpless, supplicative sort of fashion. He’d resisted at first, because it was too easy and it wasn’t anything like him. But the more his subjective urges chafed at him the more difficult it was to abide by his mentality. 

When Genesis finally entered him he felt it soar up his spine like water crashing onto rapids...felt the spear of it in his psyche like a red bolt of lightening...deep and gratifying and yet somehow balanced even in his acquiescence. He didn’t know exactly when their mental intent had turned into something synonymously physical, only that it was  _ good... _ all of it was good and he was so, so hungry and then immediately so fulfilled. Moving once more, the General in interim shivered somewhere secret...somewhere inside at the tremulous ache that answered...as it vibrated through his core. Looking back on it, he couldn’t remember if they’d used anything to ease the way...though he supposed that they must have because he imagined that it would hurt a lot more if they hadn’t. And he liked that tenuous edge of pleasure-pain...that dragging pulsation somewhere between perfection and purgatory as it grabbed him by the throat and pulled him into oblivion. 

The ride over was more difficult.

When considering his emotions concerning it...he didn’t know how to feel.  _ Guilt  _ would be improper, because he didn’t know the individuals he had killed and he didn’t really care about them either. On a psychological level, there was probably something wrong with that; in ideal circumstances, remorse would have been an ideal emotion. Though, really, most of the murderers he’d seen put through trial in Shinra rarely felt remorse. Sometimes it was a very convincing facade of regret...but most of the time it wasn’t something truly genuine. Maybe that was something people who’d taken human life resigned themselves to...numbness in terms of their deeds. He couldn’t really say, because there wasn’t a single person on Gaia who could sympathize with his current headcount when it came to killing innocent people. And he didn’t know if he would  _ want  _ that kind of sympathy in any case...because it wasn’t something that was deserved. 

Staring at the barrenness before them as they came off the intercontinental bridge...panic had suffused him because he was afraid of what he was…or rather, who he was. And even if he didn’t feel remorse he still didn’t like the lack of control...didn’t like the sensation that he had no say over his own mind and his own body. That hunger...that greed for carnage...it was heady thing, an addiction he’d been unable to override no matter how hard he had fought. There was no denying the part of him that got a physical thrill from watching someone’s blood spill out over the soil...from listening to screams of panic and death as they echoed across his synapses. It was a little bit like saying  _ ‘now you know my pain…now you know my sacrifice…now you have suffered equally’  _ but no matter how much he meted out his twisted sense of ‘justice’ there was always that drive for more. Because the reality was that it would have never been enough...he would have never stopped looking for the next victim...the next city to lay waste to. 

That was why he was afraid.

The idea of reversion was attractive while Genesis was gone...and he easily could have. He knew-logistically-it would have only taken one cold-blooded kill to throw him into that darkness again. Vincent had somewhat saved him from that, the idealism of responsibility in terms of another life. Angeal had certainly saved him from it because he was a constant presence. And it seemed like he was a little bit aware of Sephiroth’s proclivities at that point...a little more understanding of them. When he and Genesis had reunited after his first ‘death’, he’d gone into it with the determination that he would never be that person again. But the reality was that he would  _ always  _ be that person...whether he liked it or not. And he’d never understood the terminology of  _ ‘once an addict always an addict’,  _ but he did now. No matter how much he might push reformation on himself, he still had to face himself...acknowledge who he was in the midst of it all and make it into something positive. It was something he had never shared with Genesis...and he didn’t intend to, but it was worth acknowledging because ignoring it was more dangerous. 

He wasn’t going to sleep.

Sighing, Sephiroth slid out of the sleeping bag with as much stealth as was possible. It was-by his reckoning-late morning or early afternoon. Considering where they were it didn’t have much relevance; this far North and at this time of year...the stars were a constant environmental factor. Stretching momentarily, he cast his gaze to his partner before striding away to rummage in the back of the truck; unzipping a duffel bag to pull out a coat. Hopping on each respective foot, he dragged his socks back on and topped them with boots...his breath fogging over in the icy air. With this accomplished, he perused the bags further in search of something to eat...his fingers nudging a pack of cigarettes resting in a side pocket before he stared at a hip flask of whiskey he’d offhandedly shoved to the back while throwing everything together. Deciding that it probably wasn’t the best idea...he grabbed a ration bar and made his way to the edge of the water, crouching as he reached the bank. 

Maybe he’d done it because freedom was something people used frivolously.

Casting his gaze over shimmering waves of starlight-studded liquid...the silver-haired first narrowed his eyes. Freedom was taken for granted in the sense that it was an assumed privilege...a necessity humans automatically thought they would always have...no matter the circumstance. Choice was only a choice as long as the individual still garnered possession of it. And so he’d killed to emphasize the fact that he had  _ no choice  _ and because he’d had no choice he would  _ take  _ that choice. Moonlight colored locks slid over one shoulder as he closed his eyes and sighed. It didn’t matter now. The reasoning behind it didn’t matter now because it was far behind him. There was the shuffling of fabric and he cocked his head to the side and listened as his redheaded companion stirred.

There was an unintelligible mumble, the faint slow shuffle of fabric as his lover moved behind him. It all ceased for an infinitesimal moment before a sleepy, alarmed ‘Seph?’ heralded more incessant, urgent rustling. Just as he turned around, Genesis sat upright, azure eyes roaming the scenery frantically before settling on him, and the relief that flooded his slumbersome features was profound.

It was strange to be so wanted.

Not in a bad way, Sephiroth mused as he watched his lover rub one of his eyes. It was merely the fact that even after so much time together, his presence was still something so valued and sought. And he knew that  _ he  _ should know by now that he was so valued, but the weight of it still left him a little bit breathless at times. Slipping the ration bar he had pilfered into his pocket, the silver-haired man rose and made his way back to the sleeping bags, kneeling next to the former Commander when he got close. Genesis’ lips were pulled into somewhat of a frown that had more to do with blinking sleep out of his eyes than anything. Crimson locks were somewhat haphazard, but this was quickly fixed as long fingers threaded through them...putting that sea of scarlet into a slightly more gathered order. Settling cross legged, the younger man retrieved his breakfast and began to the process of peeling off the wrapper, taking a bite while he waited for his partner to wake up. He knew well enough by trial and error that talking wasn’t usually the smartest thing to do right off the bat. When he’d given it about five minutes and finished his meal in the process, he crumpled the wrapper and spoke.

“Do you want to explore that?”

He jabbed his thumb at the conch-like structure next to him as the words left his mouth. When Genesis gave him a hairy look he raised an eyebrow. Technically, he supposed that foregoing ‘good morning’ was a little bit of a social faux paux but it was dark and ‘good night’ seemed kind of off too. It was a little bit strange to acknowledge it was chronologically ‘day’ when it was environmentally ‘night’ but he tried not to dwell on it too much. Shoving the foil into his pocket, he leaned forward until he was nearly nose to nose with the older man. Brushing his mouth across cerise lips, he retreated.

“If you’re tired I’m going to go for a run,” he added flatly. 

An auburn eyebrow was arched, but otherwise Genesis said nothing while his hands rubbed his biceps. Standing up, the redhead twisted from waist up right and left, stretching as the lips Sephiroth had kissed ‘good morning’-or ‘good night’-parted in a massive yawn that was hastily covered with the back of a pale palm. 

Sighing and chalking up his following hours as a lost cause in terms of exploration, the General in interim decided that it was ‘going for a run’ for him then, before his companion spoke up with a slightly gravelly voice. “Explore.” A pause as the lithe figure in front of him stretched some more, the former Commander flashed a small smile at him that still held vestiges of sleep. “Let me eat something, I’m starving.” Right at that moment, his partner’s stomach rumbled and grumbled vehemently to show its agreement, and the blush that rose up to those proud cheekbones was endearing in a way that pulled on the seam of Sephiroth’s mouth.

An easy sort of silence waltzed between them, and the silver-haired First decided to roll their sleeping bags up. Meanwhile, Genesis was putting on his boots, half-stumbling half-hopping toward their vehicle in search of food just as he had been earlier. Rolling their amenities up and returning them to the back of their pickup, the General was about to contemplate the means of getting to their destination-considering the circular lake that surrounded it-before his question-or rather his answer-was presented by his companion.

“I’m not sure how deep it is, but I’d rather not risk going with our car in it. I’d say we take a fresh set of clothes inside one of the duffel bags and take it with us, waterproof as they are,” A pause as his lover rummaged through a rucksack for ration bars before Sephiroth came to give him a hand, for which he received a glare that nipped his kind intent in the bud. “And once we’re on the other side, I can try drying our clothes off, and then we can change, hmm?” Finally finding what he’d been looking for, the redhead quickly started munching, half of the bar disappearing in one bite before those blue eyes looked him up and down; it was, then, with a half-full mouth that Genesis commented. “I’d tie my hair up, if I were you princess.”

Sephiroth blinked.

Apparently his redheaded partner was tireder than he initially assumed. He deliberated pointing out the issue before deciding it was better if he took action and let the older man follow along or do what he wished. He let the princess statement slide because it was easier-and because it was becoming somewhat of an endearment-and tilted his head before acting. Reaching over the redhead’s shoulder, he made quick work of emptying one of the bags. He replaced the items inside with a fresh change of clothes for each of them-because he didn’t know what the environment was going to be like once they did get inside-along with more ration bars and a few bottles of water. His eyes landed on a package of what appeared to be trail mix and he threw that in as well-because field cuisine could get old after a while-before lifting the duffel up and out of the back of the truck. 

He then began to quickly and methodologically strip down. Partially into taking his second bite, Genesis paused...blue eyes widening somewhat as he watched. Raising an eyebrow, the General in interim gave his lover a somewhat questioning look as he bundled his clothes under one arm and straightened, ruffling a hand through his hair as he did so. Upon consideration, he packed those away in the aforementioned bag too, mostly because he didn’t feel like unzipping the other one again. Pulling the strap over his head, he hefted it under one arm before beginning to carry it down to the shoreline. 

“Let me know when you’re ready,” he threw back, his tone somewhat amused. 

There was the crackle of foil wrapper, and looking over his shoulder, Genesis stuffed his face with the rest of the ration bar before quick strides closed the distance between them. A muffled ‘Wait for me’ gave him pause just as he was about to step toward the bank. 

Hastily undressing beside him, his redheaded companion kept making a series of incoherent noises as he munched-probably curses-as he shuffled from one foot to another; his skin flecked with goosebumps as yards and yards of alabaster were revealed to him. “It’s fucking cold, Seph!” A hand extended toward him as his lover looked up, stuffing his socks inside his boots; the silver-haired man frowned as it took him a moment to realize that his partner was asking for the rucksack. Taking the strap off over his head and handing the said item over, he raised a platinum eyebrow.

“It was your proposed course of action, was it not?” He deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest.

The former Commander didn’t seem to have a witty remark to come up with for once, which suited Sephiroth just fine. There was the acoustic of the zipper opening and closing in quick succession as his companion threw his clothes messily inside, and the General in interim deduced that they were ready to go. Looking up at the helical structure in front of him, he put one foot ahead of the other, slowing down just outside where the crystal clear water lapped gently at the dark soil to gauge the depth of the lake when something slammed into him; not too hard for it to be painful but it was already too late to fix his trajectory in response to the force being applied to him. 

It took him a moment to realize that the ‘something’ was Genesis.

Mostly because he collided with the water and kept going. He flailed ungracefully for a moment before he resurfaced spluttering. His hair was stuck to his back and hanging down in front of his eyes...forcing him to throw it to the side as he glared indignantly at the former Commander...who was still standing on the bank with a smirk on his face. It was-he acknowledged-cold. His nether regions felt like they had shrunk significantly in defensive indignation but he ignored it in favor of tactical pursuit. Dragging the older man into the water wasn’t going to work; he was far too clever for that and he’d likely have to chase him. Settling his visage into a plaintive expression, the General in interim fumbled deliberately with his hair before peering supplicatively up at his partner.

“Give me a hand, would you?” He asked quietly, stretching a hand out.

Possibly distracted by his momentary triumph-or maybe just sympathizing with how cold the water was-Genesis smiled genially-and a little smugly-before he put the duffel bag down and acquiesced. Slender but strong fingers reached out to take his...digits pale, outstretched and shimmering slightly in the ethereal light. Reciprocating, the younger man did the same...let their palms slide against each other momentarily before tightening his grasp. Red-wreathed lashes shot upwards as his lover realized his mistake-too late-and Sephiroth grinned darkly even as the scarlet-haired ex-First attempted to re-center himself...his free hand flailing just slightly before the green-eyed soldier put his weight behind it. It was with a sincere sense of pleasure and smugness that Shinra’s finest yanked his one-winged angel forward-stepped backwards as he did so-and straight into the water with a monumental splash. 

It was hard to keep the beaming triumphant smile from his lips as Genesis, too, flailed like he had, attempted to grab onto him only for Sephiroth to step further away; observing his nefarious partner as he finally righted himself and reemerged, in all his redheaded coughing and spluttering glory. Finally having the water he’d gulped and breathed out of his system, the former Commander then resorted to screaming at the top of his lungs, and it wasn’t really nothing one would repeat in good company; a litany of curses as per usual.

“Fuck!  _ Fuck! _ It’s C-cold!” The older man started moving through the almost waist-deep lake toward the bank they’d come from, before suddenly stopping in his ungraceful splashing and walking. Those pale cerise lips puckered, azure eyes narrowed as an auburn wreathed head turned to regard him with an expression that wasn’t shy from being downright evil. And it was Sephiroth’s cue to either fight or take flight. 

He chose fight.

Mostly because he was interested. So when Genesis crashed into him and sent him tumbling he allowed himself to go with it...let the water sink over his head for a moment before pushing backwards to the surface so they could grapple with each other. Hand-over-hand...palms flat against chests and gripping biceps and if he wasn’t so cold, he would have been aroused. From the glitter of those ocean-colored eyes as they burned into his, to the slide of shimmering liquid over alabaster shoulders. Arcs of water were thrown up against the stars whenever one of them splashed the other...the thump of dual heartbeats and furious yells that quickly turned into growling laughter when the redhead kicked his feet out from under him. 

Sephiroth responded in kind, let it become a kind of dance between them...the lithe undulation of form, the crush of breath and the glitter of the moon over pale epidermis. Warm breath, the dig of fingertips into his sides and the thrill that came with it...it was freeing. He managed to get a hold on one of those shoulders, playfully threw the older man over before being pulled under himself and the water closing over them was a cool...silent thing...sliding into his hair and he could still see the features of the man before him even from under the water. He kept his eyes open because he wanted to look...wanted to remember this. Wanted to remember the way the bubbles escaped from cerise lips as Genesis grinned and then pulled him in for a kiss that would have been just on the side of too-hard under different circumstances. Weightless, breathless...and then they were surfacing again in a coagulation of environmental sound...in ragged gasps and he was momentarily disoriented before he was pushed over once more. 

The ephemerality of their new shared form of dance seemed to stretch into eternity in the timeless atmosphere of the Forgotten Capital, and for a moment, Sephiroth mused in a wholly uncharacteristically sentimental way about how everything they did could be interpreted that way… Their time together in SOLDIER, the rise and fall of swords, sparring; the flexure and relaxation of musculature when they went through Katas together. Their working along each other on the battlefield, through unspoken but agreed movements, through strategized tactics, effortless and efficiently surpassing any other team. Together, domesticity at home in Funaraoi, back at their old apartments and Genesis’ new one; falling into step with his lover as they swayed to some tune the redhead chose, imagined or heard. Every time they were intimate, in a tango of limbs, sinew and epidermis, and now this… It wasn’t important that they were all forms of dance, but that they were  _ shared _ , done together…and funnily, he couldn’t help but think that quite literally it indeed takes two to tango.

By the time they made it back to the other shore Genesis’s laughter was intermittent with the clatter of his teeth as his whole frame quaked vehemently. That was when Sephiroth realized they had forgotten their duffel bag on the other side of the lake and had to make a hurried splashy trek back to retrieve it. Azure eyes were observing him with that impossible expression as he made his way back, even though his lover was possibly freezing; back bowed somewhat and curling in on himself, with a slightly wobbly and chattery smile as his breath misted through the part of those pale lips. 

Not spending a moment longer as he stepped onto steady soil, the General in interim quickly unzipped the bag and got to work; drying those fiery strands as his companion took to toweling himself first, and Sephiroth’s hair after that...all the while assuring him that he was getting better. The younger man took their quickly soddening clothes and started wiping himself dry. All dressed up in the fresh set of garments the silver-haired First had packed for them, Genesis had stepped behind him-still moving restlessly in one place as he tried to warm himself up-to dry his hair with his magic...charring a few strands here and frizzing several strands there; all apologies, soft smiles and brief nervous laughs, and Sephiroth really couldn’t bring himself to mind. He also couldn’t help but notice the way those now warming palms lingered more on his physicality...bestowing endearing affectionate gestures that were at the same time  _ wanted  _ and unnecessarily necessary.

Finally clothed and having wrung any remaining moisture-which was surprisingly little-from his hair, they turned their gaze toward their exotic destination towering before them. There appeared to be some hints of human meddling in terms of structural integrity and overall architecture...if it could indeed be called architecture. Venturing a somewhat tentative guess, the General in interim wondered if it had once been a larger version of the trees around them; painstakingly carved and made into a shrine of sorts. It would explain the reason it was no longer glowing like every other living thing happened to be; if it was dead, its bioluminescent properties would be assumably rendered null and void. For a moment, he almost felt akin to it...because he knew what it was like to be molded and shaped out of proportion just for being ‘bigger’ than everything and everyone else around you. ...Twisted into something perceived as timeless and beautiful for the sake of adulation and fear all in one. 

Upon closer inspection, it appeared that the majority of the ‘conch’ was ground-level...with shadowed arches leading inward into the cream-colored interior but not much further. Here the sense of unwantedness was very strong...though not enough to set him on edge or make him want to turn around. Instead, the sense of repellency was a curiosity-inducing thing, because he’d never been anywhere else on the Planet that had made it so very clear he was unwelcome. Genesis had stopped to look back the way they had come, his gaze pensive, and Sephiroth took the opportunity to press his palm against the outward concave of an ivory curvature. Almost immediately, he was forced to pull it back; a sensation of coldness spreading up his arm...even as the solid surface before him darkened somewhat...as if lightly stained with ink. It faded as quickly as it had come but the sense of watchful resentment strengthened nevertheless. Cradling his fingers-which were, as far as he could see and feel, unharmed-he wondered how it was possible for a place to seem so cognizant when nothing within it fit the normal requirements for logical thought. 

“What was this place?” He murmured idly, looking upwards.

The redhead didn’t seem to notice his query at first, and as it took longer for his companion to answer, Sephiroth found himself looking at the former Commander who was frowning; blue eyes roaming over the structure and empty space alike in deep concentration, as though he was memorizing the map of an exotic place. However, inside them wasn’t the usual sense of concentration or wonderment, instead more of a replication of what the silver-haired First was feeling. 

Cerulean irises passed over him for a moment, and it was somewhat alarming to think-even for the infinitesimal instant it took for them to return to him and for recognition and some sort of surprise to fill them-that someone who was so attuned to his presence might not see him there. As though he was simply a phantom, like those many ghosts that roamed in the Lifestream, getting forgotten.

Quickly-and it was almost jarring-as though he’d sensed the distance yawning between them, Genesis stepped forward, looped a cool hand-or maybe cold, frigid even because it breached the fabric of his clothes and reached the underside of his elbow where those digits hung onto him-around his forearm. “Sorry.” was a tight response. “It’s just…” Those fingers tightened and with that, his lover let go, shaking a head of auburn and striding further ahead. “I think I’m hallucinating, this place is rife...” With his voice decreasing in volume, the ex-soldier trailed off.

Rife with what? 

Frowning, the younger man cast his gaze over the walls before coming to a distinct conclusion. It was likely some form of magic...more than likely source magic...both from the feel and from the distinct atmosphere. It made sense, because he’d gotten the impression that the entirety of the Forbidden Capital was deeply tied to the planet the moment he’d caught sight of the Sleeping Forest. Source magic, of course, was the energy of the Lifestream in semi-actinic form and it made sense that the redhead would be more attuned to it that he was. He was poor with materia even in peak form, and his few memories of Shinra’s alchemy classes were vague and hazy. From what he could recall; all forms of materia creation stemmed from source magic in one way or another; their energies coalesced into specified elements depending on the categorial process. He supposed his lack of brilliance in that particular area of expertise must have had something to do with how the Jenova cells were injected into his body...mainly with how they were successfully injected. It was logical that he couldn’t sense something that a component of his cells were designed to destroy. 

Genesis had always been adept with magic; particularly with fire...which was as close to proficiency as anyone could get. Here, with so much magic coalescing in one spot...the fact that it was overwhelming shouldn’t have been so surprising as it was expected. Frankly, he was shocked that the older man hadn’t been experiencing symptoms much sooner, or maybe he had and he’d just been too distracted or too determined to push through it to mention it. The reality of it was a bit of an anomaly, because the former Commander had been injected with cells as well...but the manner of administration was different, and the blue-eyed ex-First had always been more sensitive to the Planet regardless. Sephiroth hesitated, unsure if reaching out would be a welcome thing or an alarming thing. In the end, he settled with a middle ground; closed the space between them and pressed a palm to the small of his companion’s back...keeping the rest of his body somewhat removed as he opened his mouth.

“...What do you see?” 

There was a sensation blooming at the base of his brainstem, and for the briefest of instants he felt that someone-his lover-was holding onto his shoulder, which upon further inspection proved false, only for him to realize that Genesis was trying to connect with him through their psychic bond. For the lack of a better term, their bond seemed intense enough to be more on the forefront than something vaguely felt, here. Sephiroth couldn’t help but wonder whether it was due to the clarity and lucidity he’d felt earlier, or some other thing. It was all so illusorily strange, and more fascinating was the fact that while their mental link was something facilitated by the Jenova cells inside their bodies, their surrounding didn’t react to it, their unwelcomeness as tangible as it had been before.

Turning to his side as he still held onto the small of the redhead’s back, a little more assertively, he leant his forehead on a crown of auburn tresses before closing his eyes. 

The moment he did so, too many images rushed up at once to meet him in a whirlwind of recollections. Genesis wasn’t there, but his presence was beside him,  _ within  _ him as he watched through his eyes. 

Choppy terrain at first, then his visage, his eyes emanating a myriad of emotions with that mako-infused emerald glow, his off-sounding voice speaking that he’d be alright and how Genesis  _ clung  _ onto that word. Soon there was the Sleeping Forest unfolding all around him… Trees rising up from black soil to tower over him, higher and higher and Sephiroth was accosted with a feeling of being insignificantly small. 

The thoughts and emotions surrounding him were pooling around his feet, rising up around him like the water of the lake, weighing him down as the clear liquid steadily built up in a myriad of feelings; of being in the presence of a beauty beyond compare on a level that was taboo and forbidden...of being overcome with awe,  _ humbled _ in the presence of it and yet being pushed away…of being unwanted and unwelcome…of being cast aside.

Then, the helical structure they were exploring, compared with tapestries of ivory and conch shells washing up on some distant childhood shore. The sound of sea and how it might resonate within him if he were to stand there inside the supposedly ancient structure. The gentle caress of a nonexistent breeze bringing with it the faintest murmur of the trees…whispers like windchimes and in a language unheard of and unspoken…forgotten and extinct. And then, there were hitodamas, lights fading in and out of thin air like timid ghosts lingering around to protect, spirits bound to the very ground in prayer, in supplication, forever. And as the last dapples of moonlight flickered out under the layers and layers of aquamarine Sephiroth was descending under, there was the feeling of unworthiness, laced with a darkness he was  _ intimate _ with… A desire to prove his right…to  _ claim  _ his birthright. And right then, right there, there she was…in the blackest depths of it all,  _ whole _ , complete and  _ perfect _ in a form he hadn’t seen her before, in all her grotesque unrivaled verdance and extraterrestrial magnificence.

_ “Come, my son.” _

And it was Genesis who jarred himself away first, abruptly in a fashion that felt like Sephiroth was being rend in half. With the separation came something he was unaccustomed to feeling...not after such a long time separate from it. It bubbled up from his gut like black necrosis, like dark fire...seethed over his tongue and teeth until he was fairly sure that he would have been frothing at the mouth if he wasn’t a more collected individual. And the sense of violation was a stain on his psyche, was a rolling, reeling void like blood pouring from an open wound to lance into the core of his physicality and mentality. He could feel the way his hand became a gripping vice in the back of Genesis’ shirt, could feel the way the older man stiffened...as if not expecting such a reaction at all. And he felt as his lip curled, felt as he bared his teeth in a snarl that was so ravenous it was almost staggering in its intensity. 

Because it was  _ her.  _

The hate that rose to greet the realization was a hurricane of rage...an internal howl for retribution so strong it nearly left him staggering. Because while he had  _ listened  _ to Jenova, his actions had been his own...of his own volition...brought on by loss. Jenova had only ever  _ egged him on,  _ she had never taken control of him...had never held him in true thrall. And Sephiroth had read through the files...had read the circumstances of their shared existence thoroughly...knew that at the very least, he and Jenova were on equal standing in terms of power. He could manipulate her cells just as surely as she could attempt to manipulate his...and he would  _ not  _ be weak this time. Sephiroth couldn’t destroy her...but he could subdue her. He could make her as weak and wanting and hungry as he had been...he ached like fire to do it. Wanted to wrench the threads that had disconnected their psyches back together so he could tear her limb from metaphysical limb...watch her bleed across the metaphorical cosmos of his mind and bathe in her pain. Because Jenova had  _ taken  _ from him...and he would have his recompense. 

_ “Show me again.”  _

His voice came out almost as a hiss...shot through with ire and vice. And he knew he was going about it wrong, that he should be comforting Genesis instead of demanding things from him...but he couldn’t miss this opportunity...couldn’t pass it by. This wasn’t who he’d told himself he was for the past year...wasn’t who he’d told himself he was since he’d reunited with his former comrade, but who he  _ wanted  _ to be paled in the face of  _ what  _ he wanted;...and Sephiroth wanted revenge. As far as he was concerned, Jenova was an extension of Hojo’s falsities...an outstretched pinion on the back of torture and agony. He had let himself think that he was a part of her...that he was a facet of her Will and that there was nothing that could change that. He almost laughed at the hilarity of it, because now... _ now  _ he was going to make her a  _ part of him. He  _ was going to be the usurper,  _ his  _ Will would be law, and she the cowed underling. It didn’t matter that she still existed, it only mattered that he would  _ break  _ her. When his partner stiffened further he couldn’t entirely restrain the snarl that burst from his lips.

“Genesis,” he said hoarsely. “I’m going to  _ gut  _ her...I’m going to  _ bathe  _ in it...and I’m going to  _ enjoy  _ it.” His eyes fluttered somewhat at the gloriousness of the mere concept. The Corrupt Lifestream was a roiling noir...seething just underneath his skin, and he hearkened to it in a manner he’d thought long dead and buried.  _ “Let me show her pain.”  _

And again, it was Genesis who wrenched himself free of his grasp, distance quickly yawning between them as his lover put several feet between them. It oddly felt like backing away, even though there was no trace of fear in the grave visage that was observing him. “ _ What...? _ ” There was a vein of incredulity in his voice that was quickly snuffed. Sephiroth could almost see how the scarlet-haired ex-soldier brought all his defenses up, those azure eyes that were always open were now shuttered, seeking, observing. Auburn eyebrows were pulled down in a severe frown, and his companion’s posture was tense in a way that were the General to get close, it could quickly assume a guard position. “No.” The older man’s voice was stern, leaving no room for arguments and yet not elaborating further as to why he wasn’t. 

He tried to rationalize it...tried to think through it...but no matter what angle he considered it from none of it made sense. Jenova had tortured them...both of them, deceived them in heinous and unforgivable ways. The opportunity to usurp her couldn’t have been more fortuitous, and it didn’t matter where they were or what they were doing...if they had the chance to reduce her to naught but a shadow...surely it was worth it. Hadn’t both of them been used enough...manipulated enough? Wasn’t that enough of a reason to put their vacation on hold in order to save their logical deduction and their sanity? His companion didn’t really think that this was something they could let go...did he? And if so, what was  _ Jenova  _ whispering in Genesis’ head when he wasn’t aware of it? How  _ long  _ had he been able to communicate with her? 

“Genesis…” he uttered coldly. “Think about what she’s done to us...what she  _ could  _ do. Why would you want to keep her there when I can overpower her?” 

If it was possible Genesis’ face contorted even further, auburn brows furrowed further and a corner of a sanguine mouth turned downwards as those cerulean eyes hardened disbelievingly. “When  _ you _ can overpower her, Sephiroth?” And this time the incredulousness was forefront, and the redhead didn’t stop. “Do you want to make a war zone out of my psyche?! So you can take her place instead?” An angry huff as the former Commander pivoted on his heel, pacing in front of him for several steps before whirling around to face him. “Don’t tell me the thought hadn’t occurred to you.” His partner was looking even more severe in the face of the realization that was dawning on the silver-haired First. “ _ Don’t you dare! _ ” His former comrade nearly yelled at the top of his lungs, his voice raised when he added. “Didn’t you think about it when you fixed Vincent’s arm? How you and I were able to communicate  _ psychically? _ ” And the word was spat like it was a curse. “She’s some dead bitch jiggling around in some container as some-some form of alien cells. You’re fucking alive and sentient!” An infinitesimal pause. “She can do nothing but whisper nonsense which she doesn’t do anymore, and you want to gut her in-” The General wasn’t even allowed to open his mouth. “- _ My FUCKING MIND! And usurp her so you can take her place?!!  _ Do you want to make _ Sephiroth fucking copies  _ out of us, Sephiroth?!” Seemingly finished with his angry outburst, his furious partner stomped toward him, and the green-eyed soldier really braced himself for impact, only for a hand to fist his collar as Genesis got in his face literally and figuratively. “You know what,” Another angry pause, and the color of his companion’s face was almost rivaling his hair in his rage. “Go  _ fuck  _ yourself.” A shove, and the redhead was stomping out of this place, whatever it was.

Sephiroth wanted to argue.

He really did. Sephiroth wanted to grab the older man by the shoulder and yell right back just because Genesis was overlooking the fact that just because he overtook _Jenova_ didn’t mean he was going to overtake _everyone. _The fact that the redhead looked down on him to that degree was a little bit staggering and made him want to tear the entire place apart simply for the sake of being able to do it. And if usurping Jenova would make everyone ‘Sephiroth copies’ didn’t that mean that right now they were all ‘Jenova copies’? Growling to himself, the General in interm acknowledged he didn’t know what was worse. And was Jenova really dead? The confinement of her physical body hadn’t stopped her from talking to him before. Then again, he supposed if her physical body was functional there wouldn’t be much left of Gaia to take into account in any case. And Sephiroth was definitely alive but his world-destroying tendencies were well under wraps.

...Weren’t they?

Shoving his more disturbing thoughts to the side, the silver-haired First narrowed his eyes. Besides, once he got a hold on Jenova he could easily transfer the ‘battle’ to his psyche. There was no need to make Genesis’ mentality a ‘warzone’, he just needed to get in long enough to lure her out. Because past experience told him that if there was anything Jenova wanted, it was him...because he could do what she hadn’t been able to. Gloomily the younger man admitted that he couldn’t do that...because Jenova was a manifestation of something that was already within Genesis. He didn’t know why she was so much stronger in his lover than in him...especially now...but maybe his time in the Lifestream had taught him to close himself off more. Or, perhaps, she’d just decided that Genesis was an easier vessel to manipulate. The thought was almost enough to make him fly into a rage again, but he restrained himself. Grudgingly, he acknowledged there was no point in thinking about it now. He couldn’t-in good conscience-invade Genesis’ psyche nonconsensually. That was as good as taking advantage of him physically and despite the fact that he wasn’t the most decent of people, he wasn’t going to flay someone’s brain for the sake of revenge. 

But Genesis still thought that he wanted to take over his brain.

Turning on his heel, the green-eyed soldier made his way out of the structure. To his sincere and absolute irritation, his scarlet-haired companion was halfway across the lake...his ears and the back of his neck still red from his apparent rage. He hadn’t deigned to take his clothes off and the younger man had zero sympathy for how cold he would be once he got out. 

“It hadn’t occurred to me, by the way.” he snapped, pitching his voice a bit louder than was per norm so it would carry. “Healing Vincent was an accident and I was too  _ grateful  _ for our psychic connection to really think about what it meant. I understand what you’re saying, but the fact that you think I’d take over your mind shows me how little you think of me. So thank you sincerely for giving me your honest opinion. It speaks volumes to your viewpoint of my character.” 

With that said, Sephiroth sat down on the bank and watched the former Commander’s back with a mutinous expression. Which froze exactly where Genesis was the moment the last word was out of his mouth. Shoulders tensed, and despite the water being up to his lover’s waist, the silver-haired General was certain those hands were currently balled into fists. Turning slowly but surely around, the older man faced him with an unreadable expression, his complexion still flushed from how enraged he was, and if it had paled even slightly, it was full-on cerise again.

“_Awfully_ _convenient _for you, isn’t it?” Surprisingly his partner’s voice was somewhat calm, but the sarcasm made up for the anger that had yet to rear its ugly head. “To ignore that you just proposed to make a _lunatic_ out of me, just so you could have your fucking revenge or I don’t know rid the world of Jenova?” A splashing step forward. “You didn’t even _stop_ to think what’d become of me…” Sanguine lips curved downwards and Genesis’ eyes iced over. “All you think is yourself.” A perfunctory clap. “For your information that’s not what I meant, but I don’t want to have you in my head. I didn’t mean-I _didn’t_ mean that you’d take over it once you usurped her, but there’s only so many things you can control Seph. Can you control your own subconsciousness? Are you willing to shoulder that responsibility if one of us went on rampage when you were in our heads? I’d rather blame it on myself and Jenova, than to see you suffer for it. Enough is enough. And she’s not even here now. What you saw was my mentality collapsing in on itself...it was from when I thought you were…” The former Commander trailed off, turned around and resumed splashing and walking away in silence, before spitting over his shoulder. “You can still fuck off by the way. Enjoy running, or sticking your thoughts up your own ass.” 

“Actually, I was thinking of you,” Sephiroth retorted, his voice rising. “Because I know what it’s like to have her in your head. But intent doesn’t matter to you, does it? It never has. What matters is how  _ you  _ interpret what I’m saying, how you choose to see it. So I’ll  _ ‘fuck off’  _ and take my run quite happily, because evidently what I say or think doesn’t matter in contrast to how you perceive it and there’s no point in reasoning with you.” He stood in a fluid motion and began to angrily strip off his clothes-because he wasn’t going to run in wet garments-stuffing them in the duffel bag before slinging it into the water and wading in after it. It was inconvenient that he had to leave it on the bank next to the truck so his partner didn’t freeze to death but he wasn’t about to murder his lover via frostbite and vice. “I’m sorry,” he added loudly. “But I didn’t know. Maybe this was a concern you should have shared with me a long time ago, but I’m sorry regardless.” 

He then slid under the water and stayed there, choosing to swim submerged so whatever Genesis threw back at him would remain unheard.

Thankfully everything was quiet and calm here; well, aside from the slide of water and his roiling thoughts which he valiantly pushed aside in order to enjoy his swim. Considering his stature, his sharp physique, and his level of expertise in swimming, he calculated that it wouldn’t take him too long to take one lap around the structure they’d been exploring. An insidious voice inside him whispered that it really wasn’t a bright idea to come here for their ‘vacation’ if Genesis hadn’t already taken their vehicle and stranded him here. Not that he’d be stranded; it’d be inconvenient to fly sure, but his clothes he could summon out of the corrupt Lifestream, and he’d flown longer distances than from Forgotten Capital to Midgar. Sephiroth liked to think that his lover, even in his current level of rage wasn’t prone to do something so brash and petty, but that same voice couldn’t seem to stop continuing in that vein of thought which was now considering the options he had upon returning to the headquarters in terms of continuing and discontinuing their relationship.

It seemed pointless. His thoughts weren’t shutting up, so maybe a run was a better idea?

Just as he’d been about to twist around his center of gravity to stand upright, something-someone, fingers in fact-curled firmly around his ankle and pulled hard enough that he had to reach out with his hand not to descend face first into the lake bed. Just as abruptly, they let go, and Sephiroth flailed a little before righting himself. Of course it was Genesis again, but he took his sweet time kneeling in the water and then turning around, his hair floating slightly around him in a semi-chaotic halo as he did before he came face to face with his not-so-angry-anymore lover.

“I’m sorry.” The redhead said a bit roughly, coughing a little and a shudder quaked his frame before he continued. “It’s my fault, I should’ve kept my mouth shut. And I was outta line, I’m sorry.” Those now pale lips parted as if his partner was about to continue before seeming to decide otherwise, and looked away at the helical structure to his left. When Genesis finally spoke again, it was to quietly utter: “Forgive me?”

Sephiroth was somewhat stunned for a moment, because never before the scarlet-haired man- currently kneeling in the water like him-had ever asked for anyone’s forgiveness, let alone his. Recovering himself, he felt his mouth form a wry smile.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” he said wearily. “You were defending your opinion. Even if your opinion wasn’t necessarily correct, I wasn’t angry with you for standing up for yourself. I’ve told you before that I respect you for defending where you stand. That hasn’t changed.” Reaching forward, he clasped one of the older man’s arms and drew them both upward, making his way to the bank as he did so. “Sometimes...I just wish your stance didn’t put me on the opposite side of the battlefield,” he continued. “But at the same time I understand  _ why  _ it does, and I shouldn’t have pushed so hard for it.” Glancing back the way Genesis had been looking, he sighed. “It was my idea to go there in any case, so really, the blame is on me.” When the ex-Commander opened his mouth he raised an eyebrow. “And before you say this trip was your idea, it was  _ our  _ idea, we both agreed to it. And I’m the one who kept changing his mind about vacationing.” Looking at his shivering former comrade as they set their feet on dry land, he put the duffel bag on the ground and hastily pulled out his partner’s set of clothes. “Let’s get you out of those, into these, and into the sleeping bag.” Glancing momentarily at his naked body, he decided his clothes could wait. Mako did help matters and he was at a distinct physical advantage in terms of the cold. “I’ll set up the tent. I’d make a fire but I don’t know how these trees will burn.”

His partner was shaking his head, a wan smile on his lips as he dug into the rucksack after him to hand Sephiroth his clothes for him, only to come up short for something for his dripping, heavy mane. “I don’t think they’d burn at all.” Making a shivering halting trek toward their car, his lover started rummaging through their bags in the cab as he continued while the General started setting up the tent, leaving the clothes where Genesis had taken them out from. “I wanted to check that place out as well, so it wasn’t your fault.” There was the rustle of clothes. “What I apologized for was that I didn’t take your side of things into account. I was…” The older man trailed off, but Sephiroth couldn’t really see him from where he was crouching on the ground, staking the tent. Standing up, he nearly ran into his partner as he gave him a towel and more clothes, thicker and warmer than the ones he’d put down earlier. A smile as those ivory fingers started toweling off fiery strands after they slung their sleeping bags inside the tent. “I was too focused on defending myself against…” Milky lids covered cerulean irises, and the merry expression on those pale lips faltered. “This is what I wanted you to forgive me for.”

“There have been plenty of times where I didn’t take your side of things into account,” Sephiroth said, a trace of heavy regret coloring his tone. Pulling the towel away, he slung it somewhere nondescript and waited while the older man pulled on his clothes, drying himself off and dressing as he did so. “But you’re forgiven...if it helps.” 

With their tasks accomplished, the two of them ducked to enter the tent and the General in interim zipped it up behind them. Briefly, he worried about leaving their perimeter unguarded but it was a habituality leftover from his time in the field and he dismissed the concept quickly. Genesis had crawled into the combined sleeping bags by the time he’d finished mentally puzzling over their physical security and he was quick to join him; sliding under the warmth of the thermal layers and pulling the redhead to him. A part of him insisted that he hadn’t gotten any exercise and that he was doomed to the loss of his physicality but swimming was equally as taxing as running if not more, and he disregarded the frivolous concept entirely. Letting an arm snake around his lover’s waist, he let his hand splay over a broad chest only to frown and let his palm slide upwards to the former Commander’s forehead...the downturn of his lips increasing as he did so.

“You’re a little warm,” he commented. “How do you feel?”

Genesis quickly turned around, and the smile he was favored with was almost enough to brush all his worries in terms of his lover’s health to the side. And when his hand was again displaced and positioned on the supple hard-soft curve of his companion’s side as a head of fiery tresses nestled under his neck, Sephiroth couldn’t help but find himself relaxing despite his niggling worry. His partner pulled him closer still, and there was more movement; the rustle of clothes against the fabric of their sleeping bags as a leg curled around his waist. The General could feel rather than see that smile widening into a beaming grin against where his neck met sternum. Finally settled against him, the former Commander’s muffled voice uttered quietly. “I’m alright. Currently enjoying my human furnace, thank you very much.”

Burying his nose in familiar crimson locks the General in interim breathed in and closed his eyes...savoring the nearness between them before shifting slightly. Outside the tent, the glow of the trees was soft and luminescent across the tarp; filtering through in a manner that wasn’t too dark or too bright. The lap of the water was a gentle backdrop...an aqueous somnolence that was luring him closer and closer to unconsciousness by the second. And he’d wanted to talk a bit more, wanted to make sure that things were alright between them before coming to any assumptive conclusions. Something in him whispered that it wasn’t necessary; that they’d said what needed to be said and anything else would be extrapolation. A large, long fingered hand trailed sleepily across the curve of his hip and it was hard to resist the sense of relaxation that stole over him. Arguing was-he acknowledged-exhausting. And it didn’t particularly matter in terms of who was right and who was wrong...though he supposed the specifics of it were more convoluted than that. Maybe it was more of a question of their ability to come back together in the wake of it all...their togetherness despite occasional dissent. 

“I love you.” Sephiroth murmured. 

He said it rarely.  _ They  _ said it rarely because they were words that held such weight. But in the aftermath of everything, he wanted to say it. Not because he needed to affirm it, but because it felt right. And he didn’t need a response because he’d said it out of the communicational desire to elucidate his affections and nothing more. There was no expectation of reciprocation when it came to his love, just as there hadn’t been before. ‘Love’ was a word...after all, and sometimes it seemed like such a small word compared to the depth of his emotion when it came to his partner...but sometimes it was just enough. It was simple, and while their relationship was hardly ever simple, the base emotion behind it was. Because it was honest and enduring...and that was really all that mattered. 

* * *

They’d-or rather Sephiroth had-woken up to a burning up redhead inside his arms. 

At first, still weighed down by his somnolence, he’d thought that some unseen enemy had set their tent on fire which had made him curse himself inwardly for not putting more belief in that instinctual feeling he’d chalked up as insecurity. Jarring himself out of sleep, however, he’d found that their surroundings were rather intact. His second thought was that somehow, his lover had managed to become so proficient in his fire-based abilities that he was able to summon them while he was still sleeping. Again, that had proven to be false, as there’d been no orange halo surrounding the body beside him. After that, he really hadn’t been needed to repeat what he’d done before their nap-however long their drowse had taken-to confirm that yes, Genesis was indeed having a fever. 

When his hand-which had been significantly colder than the sweat dappled epidermis-had touched his partner’s forehead, the redhead had mumbled something under his breath, his slumbering features softening momentarily in ephemeral relief. Sephiroth’s brows, however, had turned downwards even more, because neither of them had ever caught a cold before; neither of them had taken it into account that the former Commander wasn’t mako-enhanced anymore and therefore possibly more prone to ailments than the General was. There was also the Jenova cells, and the silver-haired First had been unable not to consider-even momentarily-if his lover’s cold had something to do with the Forgotten Capital; that apart from its low temperatures, it had more to do with its unique and bizarre logistics, and also with what his partner had showed him through their mental bond inside the conch-like structure. 

Waking Genesis up had proven harder. But once the word fever had rolled off his tongue, and his former comrade had been cognizant enough for it to register inside his red-wreathed head, Sephiroth’s previous thoughts were parroted back to him in the form of garbled words. And the fact that they hadn’t brought any form of medicine along with them. Trying to cure himself-even if it was not a Curaga and more a Cura possibly-had resulted in those auburn brows furrowing, and that was when their vacation promptly ended. Because despite the older man’s tries, nothing had happened. That subsequently led to Sephiroth hastily gathering their things while trying not to let his partner do the same which had proved to be an exercise in futility. The former Commander had mumbled something about having his healing magic blocked, and while he’d confessed that he wasn’t really well-versed in terms of white magic, he hypothesized that it was probably due to their rather meddlesome surroundings.

With all their belongings and possessions gathered, Genesis had finally retired himself to the passenger seat-much to the General’s relief-and murmured an apology for their vacation coming to such an abrupt end as burning lips had brushed over his knuckles. 

A warm hand covered his on the gearshift-jarring him out of his thoughts-and relinquishing his focus on the road enough to chance a glance to his right, he was greeted with a wan smile and barely visible slits of azure gazing at him. He returned it somewhat distractedly, keeping his eyes on the road as he did so. Truthfully, he wasn’t familiar with illnesses. Soldiers rarely got sick due to regular mako injections-unless their locale was Wutai and now also Forgotten Capital-and he hadn’t fully understood Genesis’ degradation while it was occurring, so ailment was somewhat of a foreign thing. He knew it was important to get the older man’s fever down and ensure that he got plenty of fluids, but that was about as far as his overall knowledge went. Injuries from wounds that garnered feverish symptoms were different because the underlying factor was bacterial. Most of the men affected in such a way under his watch were shipped off to the Science Division and he wasn’t required to deal with it for any length of time. 

He was going to have to take Genesis back to HQ.

The idea left him somewhat apprehensive, because the redhead didn’t like HQ. But taking the older man to a doctor in the city would blow his cover immediately, of that he was sure. Ideally, he could sneak a tech out to the former Commander’s apartment, but he was fairly sure that that was asking a lot of Administration and there were few techs that could keep their mouths shut for very long. By the time they made it out of the Sleeping Forest and away from the influence of the Forgotten Capital, it was very clear that Genesis did not have the cognizance to form any kind of Curaga. By Sephiroth’s reckoning, his partner’s fever wasn’t high enough that it was going to cause brain damage, but he’d rather be safe than sorry. As a result, he was forced to take the main road back through most of his ‘carnage’ to the coast. It was easier not to focus on it when he had a purpose, and while he was probably breaking the speed limit and most logical road regulations in every possible way it wasn’t like there was any law enforcement presence to stop him either. He spent the majority of the timespace between capital and coast pushing the speedometer to its limit. They made it to the bridges in half the time, and he slowed down only minimally to navigate the overpasses. Sailing over still water with a sunset he hadn’t seen as a sunrise blazing before him, Sephiroth acknowledged that despite everything that had happened, the trip had still been worth it. 

...Because spending time with Genesis was priceless, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. 


	19. Chapter Eighteen

Praying was still an omnipresent thing. Even after everything that had happened, even though the voices of the Planet were somewhat more quiet, less virulent, less angry…

It had taken her some time.

Elmyra’s death had been her companion on many restless, nightmarish nights...and she’d had no one but the Planet to blame. No one to scream silently or against her pillow at, as she’d cried herself to sleep only to wake up and start a new day…face a new tomorrow alone. Elfé had been beside her, so had Shears, and it’d helped...on good days. On bad days, however...she had been wallowing in a well of despair, of depression, and barely moving through, barely living. It’d taken her a long time to see the reasoning behind Fuhito’s maddened ways, behind the Planet’s drastic, survivalistic measures. It didn’t make their motivations any more understandable or condonable; didn’t take away from the pain that stabbed inside her chest whenever her memories with Elmyra resurfaced, because many a time those who knew her had found her crying her eyes out while tending to her gardens. She’d suffered personally from what the scientist and the Planet had done, so had Elfé, and so had the people. But with everyone trying, pushing forward through the hardships, there had finally come a point that she’d decided that she needed to be strong, if not for herself, then for the people she’d tried to represent; and if not for them, then for Elmyra, for Zack, for Ifalna. She knew that she needed to regain their trust, even though she hadn’t told anyone how it was all her fault, that she had a lot to make up for. 

And so, she’d finally managed to rise and come to stand beside everyone else. Even though-in her darkest moments-she hadn’t believed in herself to be able to survive this, to be strong enough to push through this, she somehow had. She had many to thank for, except for the Planet, which had been so cruelly silent. 

When she’d finally been able to get over her grief, she’d been filled with so much guilt. It had been almost crippling...even though Elfé and Shears kept dissuading her attempts at self-flagellation, which she had appreciated inwardly at first, and later on, outwardly. She couldn’t stop thinking that had she been as much of a determined individual as both Ifalna and Elmyra had believed her to be, she wouldn’t have stopped praying when Fuhito had taken away her only reason for being positive and hopeful… Because the second she’d stopped...the instant she’d felt that righteous rage rise up inside her-that unprecedented, astounding amount of hate that had made her curse all humanity-it had been all over. 

And she hadn’t wanted to, still didn’t want to be the one to have that much power...didn’t want to be the determining factor in the fate of so many, and not only humans but all life on Gaia...but it seemed that she was and there was no escaping it. It never ceased to be staggering, the realization and the subsequent crushing amount of responsibility she’d felt, that she still did. Because if she could just give up her position to someone else and live normally like every other person, she would without hesitation. But this, like so many other things in her life, wasn’t something she had any control over. And while she had been bitter about it at first…she learnt to live with it over time.

Living in the aftermath of her lapse in judgement was hard, but she didn’t feel like she had the right to object. It was, after all, her fault; so, she had turned to helping people alongside the other members of AVALANCHE whenever she could. It was during one such occasion that she had seen Sephiroth…asking the people in slums with an entourage of SOLDIER about their living arrangements…talking with the head of their group. And the Planet knew how much she had wanted to hate that man, how much she had hated him before she’d even seen him that day, but there had been something wrong; something virulently different that she couldn’t ignore. Apart from the instinctual-she didn’t know what else to call it-feeling that had risen up inside her, forcing her to remain on guard because an inherent, ingrained part of her kept screaming ‘enemy’ at her, there was another voice; another voice inside her that had told her that this wasn’t, couldn’t be the same man who had killed enough people to spur the Planet to resorting to such drastic measures in order to ensure its survival. She still wanted to put one foot ahead of the other only to get into the silver-haired man’s face and kick him in his manly parts, but she hadn’t budged really; resorted to muttering irritably under her breath only to have the murderer of her boyfriend walk up behind her, and for Tseng to introduce them to each other. 

Funnily, she hadn’t acted upon her nefarious intentions even then. But maybe that had been because when she’d turned, instead of the green-eyed silver-haired individual, a kind-looking grey-haired soldier-whom she now knew as Angeal Hewley-had stepped forward. And while she had still been accosted with the same strange feeling of imminent attack and danger when Angeal had spoken, Aerith hadn’t been able to do naught but to stare-with what she now could only guess as the dumbest expression on her face-while the man had uttered words that seemed to have come right out of Zack’s mouth.

They’d spoken about Zack a lot at first; they still did, Hewley reminiscing of the time he’d spent with his protege. Sometimes those recollections reduced the last of the Cetras to a sniffling mess, only for the General to try and comfort her. In turn, Aerith spoke of the short time she’d known the spikey-headed soldier. Maybe it had been Angeal’s fatherly love toward her deceased boyfriend, how he spoke of Zack like he was his son… Or, maybe it was their shared sense of loss that had helped their friendship bloom so quickly, but it sometimes left the brunette wondering. It was understandable somewhat; because the spikey-haired First was their immediate common ground. And later on, when the last of the Cetras had figured out that it was the General who had been one of the prominent figures in reforming Shinra-also being the one who had been and still was helping the slums be a better place alongside Reeve Tuesti-it was nearly effortless between them. 

There was also the blue-eyed soldier’s love for plants and vegetation that was yet another interest they shared. It was easy being around the older man; who wasn’t really that old, but his appearance and his grounding, down-to-earth personality made it seem like he was also Aerith’s mentor, or the father figure she’d missed her whole life. Hewley was warm-hearted, and he genuinely cared about how everything was coming along, in terms of matters regarding both the upper plate and the lower plate; interestingly, more so for the slums. It was with a kind of selfish happiness that the brunette sometimes found that she couldn’t really blame him.

The more she got to know the General, the more she pushed that voice that made her feel on edge and instinctively protective of anything that mattered to her aside and to the back of her mind. It was still there, but it was somnolent somewhat, maybe at times even appeased that the man standing beside her wasn’t going to do her any harm. And really, in his presence, she felt strangely safe. Definitely more so than the time she had been in AVALANCHE, and even more than the time she was all by her lonesome, with Tseng watching over her from wherever the Turk chose to station himself.

Sometimes, she wondered maybe it was because there wasn’t the threat of her being returned to the labs hanging over her head. Maybe it was because Hojo wasn’t alive anymore, and Shinra wasn’t looming over their heads as that horrifying tower of darkness and doom.

Getting appointed a position in the company, even though it still wasn’t where she lived and someplace she visited a lot, was something she’d vehemently refused at first. Because she didn’t want to be responsible for more things than she already was; she didn’t want to have the power or the ability to make mistakes that had far-reaching consequences more than she already did, than she already had. She had been kind of expecting them to send Angeal to persuade her-which they had-and it hadn’t taken too long after that; she’d practically folded like tinfoil. It was so hard to refute the man’s logical reasoning, sometimes even frustratingly so. 

She’d surprised herself by being truthful instead of withholding about her reasons for refusal, but Hewley had promised her that there would be people who’d be doing this with her. And that it was okay to make mistakes especially because she was a human, and she was young. Though while he’d also reassured her that no one would let her fall blindly into wrongdoings, he’d also let her know that were the power to go to her head, the grey-haired First would be the first one to put her back in her place. They had laughed, and finally, she’d acquiesced to being appointed as the leader for Slums renewal, health, and childcare under the WRO branch of the Urban Development. 

They had spent more time around each other after that. 

Sometimes, they went to her church, and Aerith spoke about her life with Elmyra, about the memories she had from Ifalna. Sometimes, she complained about how hard it was to be the last Cetra, how the Planet was too close sometimes… And Angeal always listened, sometimes offered his input when he could, but when it came to the matters regarding the voices the brunette heard, the older man was mostly silent. That kind face would turn somewhat thoughtful, sometimes plain unreadable; and while the General assured her it was nothing that she’d said, she wondered if maybe there was something about it that disturbed her new friend. Every once in a while she couldn’t stop whining and throwing hysteric-and sometimes angry-fits about the matter, but the grey-haired individual was nothing but patient.

Sometimes, the General called in advance to apologize for not being able to visit due to conflicting schedules or the illness that was wearing him down. It gnawed ceaselessly at her, but she hadn’t known how to breach that subject. Despite the toll it obviously took on him, the blue-eyed First continued to come down to the renovation sites with her; and each time, the pleased look that flashed over his features almost made her forget about her worries. It was so contagious Aerith couldn’t help but feel her resolve solidify in making the former Commander’s and her own dream come true in the face of it all. 

So, it had still come as a surprise when she’d found herself happy to see those kind blue eyes shivering with some sort of pride and joy at her and what she was bringing around in the lower plate. But maybe, it really shouldn’t have. 

There was also the almost debilitating sadness of having to bear witness to the progression of Angeal’s disease… It’d been subtle at first, but she was really good at observing people. There were only so many times you could chalk something up to the General having a bad day at work, or maybe in training, or maybe even sleeping in some position that must have given him cramps. There was also his crimson-eyed companion following him, whom she was seeing more and more of recently; the same guy who had met them at Shinra gates during their rallies. 

Vincent Valentine.

And now, it all clicked together like pieces of a puzzle. It all made sense. Sometimes, she felt just on the wrong side of guilty, and sometimes on the right side of shy when she was about to meet those red irises that were just too observing.

The crimson-caped man never really came forward to talk. Despite that, that strange feeling she’d been accosted with the handful of times she’d seen the man behind Shinra’s gates wasn’t there anymore. That ancient entity she had barely perceived seemed to be completely gone, and instead there was the same niggling-and frankly stupid feeling-in the back of her mind. His voice wasn’t dual toned anymore either; though that might have to do more with the fact that she was usually standing far away from the General and his companion as the duo spoke briefly, every time the blue-eyes soldier and she had a rendezvous. The grey-haired First always exchanged soft words with him that Aerith couldn’t hear from where she’d been waiting. But there was no mistaking those really affectionate gazes and glances-that screamed ‘love’ but Aerith was never going to bring it up-when the duo parted. 

As Hewley’s illness got more serious, it took more and more ‘convincing’ for Mr. Valentine to leave the blue-eyed soldier...and while she’d seen them hold hands before, the unprecedented gesture of Angeal holding onto his companion’s forearm started to become a habitual thing. Then, there came a day that his boyfriend’s mentor came to visit with a cane...and that too, started becoming their new normalcy, which wasn’t really normal...which never stopped making her feel sad. But she tried to smile when the older man was around, genuinely so; tried to be as positive and as kind as she could be because there was nothing else she could do. The moment Angeal turned his back to go to his crimson-eyed companion-who always returned to pick the General up whenever he wanted to leave-Aerith couldn’t help but feel her smile vanish in the face of the pain and the sadness in those ruby irises.

Then the duration of their visits started getting shorter and shorter, and the time between each two subsequent ones started dragging on longer and longer…

Standing just beyond the playground of a preschool Shinra had opened in the slums, she couldn’t stop the smile that slowly stretched over her lips. Glancing to her right, the expression was mirrored on Angeal’s somewhat weary but kind features. 

They were going to head to the headquarters whenever the General was ready. The reason was Aerith’s half-baked idea of using her healing abilities-and the power that was vested in her by her heritage and also the Planet-to try and heal the grey-haired First’s illness. There was no guarantee that it’d work-and the brunette hadn’t really tried it on anyone before-but the moment she had so much as mentioned the idea to the older man while they’d been sitting inside her church, the former Commander had agreed; and so, here they were.

“Thank you.” was the calm, quiet utterance. “For everything.”

And Aerith had wanted to repeat those same words, but couldn’t bring herself to. On the way back to the Shinra tower, they had all been quiet; Vincent and Angeal had been sitting in the back while the last of the Cetras had sat in the front passenger seat, trying her damnedest to snuff the sense of foreboding and nervousness that had been twisting in her gut for the entirety of the ride. There were numerous times she’d wanted to look back over her shoulder; knowing that she would see Angeal’s reassuring smile, or just sneak a glance at the duo. She knew a head of grey tresses would be leaning on a crimson-clad shoulder, her mentor holding the hand of his companion with those kind, giving fingers.

So, when they reached the gates, when a familiar hand curled around her shoulder in a fatherly gesture and gently squeezed, Aerith prayed to the Planet with all her heart; clasped her hands together over her chest and closed her eyes shut. Distantly, she listened as the door of the car opened behind her before focusing on what she was about to do. She could feel as the world around her fell away, the soothing murmurs getting louder inside her head. There was a wave of shimmering green rising up within her, winds picking up speed over the water surface...the purity of it...the tufty sun-kissed clouds in the heavens overhead...and the rush of the gravity...a single droplet forming ripples…

At first, it was the pitter-patter of heavy droplets hitting the windshield that broke her out of her trance-like state. For the briefest of moments, she thought she’d been successful...but it only lasted that infinitesimal instant...only for her to be promptly plunged into dread. Choked by guilt.

Vincent’s pained and panicked voice pierced through the serenity that had fallen over her as he’d asked her to ‘make it stop!’. She had nearly toppled over the backrest of her seat trying to turn around and watch through the blur of rainwater sluicing down the rear window; could make out the silhouette of two figures hurrying toward the entrance of the building...and she had been too horror-stricken to do anything...helpless as one of them collapsed… 

‘Angeal!’ Vincent called, and it was the driver who ran to the crimson-caped man’s aid when he cried for help.

It took her a moment, but a moment too long, to realize that she had actually, finally managed to get out of the car; standing there uselessly as rain drenched her clothes.

She couldn’t help but feel even more guilty...eyes burning with tears as Angeal and his partner were ushered inside.

Aerith just fell to her knees then, all soaked and shuddering, because how could the world be so cruel? How could her attempt at healing the individual she’d come to care for-almost as much as someone would for a father-end up being so destructive and the reason for so much pain…?

How could she just fail everyone every time she tried to be helpful? Why did it always have to have such disastrous outcomes? Didn’t her intent, her efforts really factor in anywhere?

So, when two men-soldiers-came to escort her inside, she really didn’t care if they were taking her to put her on trial for killing Angeal Hewley. She didn’t even resist as they helped her stand, accompanied her inside the building, and then to the Science Division.

Aerith didn’t think she deserved to be there. She was guilty.

She’d failed Angeal, Vincent, Ifalna, Elmyra, Zack, the people.

Everyone.

Guilty.

* * *

Vincent’s presence washed over him, even though it was less pronounced ever since Chaos had left; but it was still there, unique and singular...like a lighthouse in the middle of the sea, beckoning him and bringing him back from wherever he’d drifted off to. 

Thankfully, the horrendous pain that had followed him into oblivion was gone. It had been somewhat alike the first time he’d gotten mako shots and the subsequent mako shower that had followed; and yet, at the same time, entirely different. It felt like acid was running through his veins and at the same time poured on him from the outside. It was strange...to see something so harmlessly routine and beautiful hurt so much.

It hadn’t really affected anyone else, except for him and Vincent. The only thing they shared was the Jenova cells...which really made sense. 

Of Sephiroth’s whereabouts, he was sure; the younger man was inside the headquarters, possibly inundated with paperwork, or busy having his ears talked off fielding some meeting. The silver-haired First was trying to get as much work done as he could so they could all go to the vacation Genesis had planned for all four of them, to Banora.

Thinking of the redhead though, Angeal could only hope that Genesis was inside his dojo when it’d started to rain. 

The Banoran had been on top of the world when his best friend had come to them with the idea of the dojo. Once the scarlet-haired ex-soldier had chosen a place, the General had pretty much holed himself up there until they’d opened up the dojo. It had filled him with a strangely immense amount of joy to watch the redheaded former Commander going through the motions along with his crimson-eyed partner; to observe their spar and their pouring over a new fighting system. It made him smile from the depth of the warmth that expanded in his chest whenever he saw his partner, from seeing two of the people who meant a lot to him get along. He had to hide a roseate shade whenever those two caught him red-handed in his enthusiastic ‘voyeurism’, however. Because his childhood friend would flash him a teasing, shit-eating grin while Vincent’s ruby eyes would shiver with limitless affection which made his blush deepen enough for him to have to excuse himself.

The former Commander’s idea had been a success...and while Angeal never ceased to be surprised about it-couldn’t really comprehend why Genesis had started doing something like it-he was grateful. He was happy just seeing his childhood friend and the ever increasing members of SOLDIER-who came to volunteer-teach people how to defend themselves. Because it had been his dream, and to see it fulfilled-even though the only part he’d played was to look for those who showed talent and suggest that the redhead separate them and teach them differently from others-never stopped bringing a wholly content smile to his lips. 

At this rate, the scarlet-haired ex-soldier would either have to branch out or find a bigger place soon; apart from it being only a matter of time for the public to find out about his identity and therefore flood his dojo. So, while all three of them had suggested that the blue-eyed ex-First come out in a more controlled environment himself, Genesis had decided to let it happen first and deal with it later.

Later.

It was such a strange word now. He’d always counted himself as one of those ‘ordinary’ people Genesis always disdained for taking everything for granted, for not living in the here and now. But now, the grey-haired First had come to appreciate his childhood friend’s motto. He’d come to appreciate the time he had...as little or as long as it might turn out to be. 

The only thing, the only person he couldn’t cherish enough, couldn’t have enough of, enough time with, was currently beside him.

Tightening his hold around the fingers that covered his hand, Angeal couldn’t stop feeling his lips stretch into a wan but no less affectionate smile...wished that he could stop the wayward tear that escaped from the corner of his eye as he cracked his eyelids open. It wasn’t a sad thing, not really, more sentimental than anything...the embodiment of everything he could say and couldn’t...could do and couldn’t anymore. And if his voice was a little too low and somewhat hoarse, he really didn’t care, because he needed to tell Vincent.

“Evergreens remind me of you.”

Despite his determination to make things successful with the dojo and his other tasks, Vincent’s expression was eternally haunted. There were times when it was less virulent than others; when he was focused on work, talking about a subject he was particularly passionate about, or otherwise occupied...but there was always a shadow behind his eyes. This time it was no different. Those crimson irises were inundated with a kind of sorrowful worry. At the same time, the older man was clearly trying to put on a brave face. Those sanguine lips were curled in a small smile...though it was slightly strained. The hand holding his was gentle...though not loose...the grip firm but not overbearing. The fingers of the opposite palm lifted to swipe at the moisture lingering on the blue-eyed soldier’s cheek. As he did so, the gunslinger’s expression seemed to abruptly crumple, the pain he tried so hard to hide making his visage almost contorted in its severity before it settled into careful affection again. 

“You remind me of the sea.” was the uneven response. When Angeal chuckled quietly, Vincent shook his head. “And it’s not just because of your eyes.” Onyx lashes brushed pale cheekbones as he spoke. “Depthless...enduring...strong...quiet at the shore but passionate within...everything you are.” That head of dark hair lowered somewhat...further...until the man who was seated beside him had his lips pressing against the side of the hollow at his throat. An inhale, and the hand clasping his squeezed gently. “You don’t know-” He began, his voice thick before he broke off. “-Maybe you do.” He amended, clearing his throat. “But I love you.” The fingers on his cheek descended to stroke along Angeal’s jaw, and when his partner spoke again, it was but a whisper. “So much.” 

Trying to smile wasn’t his brightest idea when his heart was breaking for his partner, and even though he did, Angeal was sure it didn’t have any reassuring effects because of the tears that suddenly welled up in his eyes. Detangling their fingers, his hand rose to mirror his lover’s gesture, to caress a pale cheek lovingly as the grey-haired First whispered. “Come here.”

Shifting on the bed was his worst idea yet, because immediately everything in his body was protesting; and while he was sure that they’d given him some medicine to help with the pain, it only took so much of it away. There were obviously stronger ‘options’, higher doses, but Angeal was trying to go about it slowly...he could still tolerate it. It was beginning to rival getting stabbed in the gut with Buster Sword, but he could still bear it. With liquid fire coursing through his veins and flames inflaming every single muscle, he made room on the bed for his lover, gritting his teeth so as not to make any sound to make it worse than it already was. 

Swallowing and licking his chapped lips, he turned to gaze affectionately at the older man, gently tugging on pale gloveless fingers. “Come ’ere.” His voice came out slightly strained as he blinked slowly, trying to memorize that beautiful visage, those eternally worried eyes… “I’m sorry.”

If Vincent’s expression wasn’t agonized before, it was now. Every facet of his features was writ in a kind of existential torture. When Angeal moved those hands came up as if to stop him and the look in his eyes was pleading. Pale fingers twitched slightly, like the wings of a butterfly in the throes of flight...trying to catch his movement but obviously unsure if touching him would cause him more pain.

“You don’t have to-” The older man’s voice broke off and his shoulders slumped as he seemed to realize that saying something now was too late. A sweet, sad, and shy sort of smile crossed over perfect features as his partner tilted his head to the side before he lowered himself on the cot next to him...slowly...so slowly; obviously being agonizingly careful not to bump or jostle the former General as he did so. Tentatively, a large hand came up to place itself on his chest; barely-there...almost hovering. “You shouldn’t cater to me like this just because I’m moping,” was the muttered comment against his shoulder. “...But thank you.” A pause. “And don’t apologize, this isn’t your fault...you didn’t ask for this.” 

Covering that tentative hand with his own, Angeal let his eyes flutter closed as he cradled it against his chest where his heart was beating. And while he couldn’t see his own face, he was slowly relaxing-as was the rest of his physicality-relieved just to have his lover closer. It was endearingly unfair how Vincent, merely his presence could have such an effect on him; it had always been this way, from the very beginning. 

For several minutes, he just breathed, still hiding behind his eyelids, listening to the soft rhythm of his companion’s inhalations and exhalations; to the faint yet strong beat of his heart pulsing in the blood vessels of those nimble digits. 

When it felt like sleep would soon come and drag him to the realm of dreams, the General opened his eyes, drinking in the sight before him when he suddenly remembered what had been bothering him in his earlier waking moments. Reflexively his hold around the crimson-eyed man’s hand tightened, gripping the sheets covering the cot with the other as he tried to raise himself somewhat; jaw clenching momentarily against the all-encompassing ache that riddled his already worry-laced voice. “You’re-you were hurt.” A pause as Vincent gently pushed him back, and Angeal was helpless but to go with it. “Are you alright?”

“I'm not hurt.” was the hasty reply as his partner levered himself up in his stead. He watched somewhat confusedly as the gunslinger rolled up one of his sleeves only to understand as the white material of medical tape and fluffy gauze became apparent. There didn't appear to be any seepage however, and he took some small comfort from that. “Nothing major.” was the dry comment. “It should clear up in a few days. I've others, but they're equally minor. According to the tech who spoke to me, it caused an adverse cellular reaction, some of it caused a topical response but that's as far as it went.” Crimson eyes slid guiltily to Angeal. “With me, in any case.” Vincent concluded heavily.

Gently encircling the ex-Turk’s wrist, he brought it forward to brush his dry lips against the soft smooth skin of its underside, breathing a sigh of relief. “Good.” Replacing it where it had been on his chest again, the General continued with the questions he’d been ruminating about when he’d woken up. “Have you contacted Sephiroth and Genesis?” Swallowing, he realized he probably could use a drink, but it could wait until he felt better, and when he was sure everyone was alright. Also, the thought of sending Vincent away after a lab assistant, or a glass of water while he could enjoy his company seemed a rather ridiculous vein of thought. “If I recall correctly, Sephiroth had to sit through a board meeting, but I’m worried about Gen.” Frowning, he tilted his head, seeking those ruby irises. “Where’s Aerith? How’s she?”

“I sent word to Sephiroth, he might be here soon, more than likely with Genesis. I think he'd have been here sooner if Genesis was injured…” A slight smirk. “Probably carrying him the whole way...or trying to.” Crimson eyes cut to the door. “Miss. Gainsborough is waiting outside, she seems distressed and very worried about you. I don't think she was affected, thankfully.” His lover’s gaze returned to him. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright to see anyone? I can always tell her you’re fine...just tired.” A raised onyx brow. “I don’t think she’d blame you either.”

Angeal smiled appreciatively and took a moment to savor the gentleness between them. Even with his illness, it was rare these days for them to get to spend quiet moments during the day together. Vincent was busy with whatever he was doing and with helping Genesis with the dojo if he happened to ask. He seemed to be spending less time with Sephiroth, but that was to be expected, what with everything that was going on...with the company finding its feet...with the city slowly trying to return to normalcy. 

“Can I get you a bottle of water?” The ex-Turk murmured, cutting in on his thoughts. Those rubicund eyes were keenly observant. “You’ve been out for a while, and the tech mentioned you might be thirsty.” 

“It can wait.” He said with smiling fading-blue eyes. Closing them, he nudged slightly nearer to the older man, tilting his head down and nestling it almost against his lover’s chest to hide the slight wince, before lacing their fingers together. “They all can wait,” Raising his other hand, Angeal held onto the fabric covering his partner’s side. “I want us to be alone, even for a short while.” A quiet chuckle. “You know the minute Genesis sets foot in the Science Department, no door is going to hold him back.”

Detangling their joint hands, Vincent tentatively reached for his face, the touch of his fingertips feather-light as he ran them over the sandpaper of his stubble. And Angeal couldn’t really stop the thought that gesture evoked in his brain from formulating and running its course.

He’d mostly come to terms with his illness, with the seemingly cowardly death that was getting nearer and nearer-...and cowardly because who thought Angeal Hewley would die of something like old-age and in his late twenties no less, instead of dying on the battlefield or defending something that was worth fighting for, worth dying for. That said, there was still a part of him kicking and screaming in the face of it all, a very insignificant and sometimes utterly selfish, illogical part of him, but then again, there was no use denying the inevitable.

Seeing himself change in the mirror had been hard...staggeringly hard; kind of like receiving a kick in his balls every single morning he caught his reflection staring back at him. And he didn’t want Vincent to be there when his world came crashing down every time he tried to stop the unstoppable tumble of his life downhill. His physicality had deteriorated to the point of getting out of shape and then getting progressively lanky, and no amount of food would make it better. Foolishly, he’d tried binging a few times until he’d been in so much pain, and feeling so sick that his lover had suggested they go to the labs, but he’d decided not to reduce his pride to lower levels than where it already was. That meant he’d inevitably and effectively forced his partner to endure it with him in his blind stubbornness; forced the older man to hold his hair as he’d thrown up all he’d eaten and even more...only to end up in the labs nevertheless, because he hadn’t been able to stop vomiting his own intestines.

He’d stopped looking at his own reflection whenever he could avoid it, and somehow he’d managed to ask-in a roundabout way-that his companion shave the same stubble that was currently dotting his possibly gaunt features. Those eyes had been filled with so much understanding and affection back then, and every single time, those hands were gentle in ways the grey-haired First didn’t find himself worthy of sometimes. 

When the feeling that accompanied those images brought a sigh to his lips, those pale fingers retreated from caressing his cheek; and the General had to apologize and explain that he wasn’t in pain, so they’d resume whatever they’d been doing.

How much Vincent still loved him sometimes seemed unfair for his lover…most of the time seemed more than what Angeal deserved... Because even though the red-eyed gunslinger was older than him, physically he was even younger than his son… It was unfair for him to have to stay by his side, when he was swiftly passing his eighties and turning into a man in his nineties.

It was a weird feeling...to lie, to sit down, to ‘train’-... It was not at all like what he was used to. Walking around his house, wandering the headquarters, and his visits to the slums with his friend ‘Mr. Cane’ were his new ‘training regime’. And still, to have your muscles waste away regardless, atrophying more day after day, minute by minute, caught in the constant downward spiral of decay and cellular death… The physical pain was only a small facet of it, nothing he couldn’t endure, but the psychological anguish was on a whole other level. His own condition was only a small part of it...witnessing the heavy toll it was taking on his partner was what was enough to bring him to his knees. While Angeal knew he’d might have given up months ago...he didn’t dare mention it, didn’t dare think about it, because he just couldn’t bear the thought of how it would affect Vincent.

The crimson-eyed ebon-haired man was his only reason for surviving each passing day. His only reason for dragging his existence longer than was necessary.

There were also Sephiroth and Genesis, but they had each other to rely on when it all came to worse; and he hoped they’d stand beside Vincent after he was gone. He knew Genesis would also be hit hard, and again it’d probably fall on Sephiroth’s shoulders to keep everyone’s sanities in check. But he also knew that his redheaded best friend was awfully resilient, and in a way that left him somewhat optimistic in the end. Those two would be alright, given time… And Angeal could only hope that his partner would be as well, probably in a far future. Hoped Vincent would move on, to find happiness somewhere, with someone else even. Because if there was anyone who deserved all the happiness in the world, it was the dark-haired ex-Turk. After him, would be his two friends, and he really couldn’t play favorites between the two of them. 

Now, hoping was all that he could do.

The company was doing alright, it was quickly receding in priority on his list of worries; and SOLDIER too. The world seemed to be on the right track after being on the wrong one for so long, and that was all he could hope for. He’d almost seen his vision come to fruition, and while Zack wasn’t there, while his mother wasn’t there...it was enough for him. He probably didn’t have to miss them for much longer anyway.

There was also one more thing they had to try, before he was a lost cause.

Still with his head tucked under a pale chin, Angeal uttered quietly. “I know you’ve probably made up your mind about Banora. But…” Swallowing and licking his lips again, he continued. “Can we still go there?” Those fingers stopped their soothing caress, and the grey-haired General hastily added. “I know Genesis would hate to admit, but he’s not enhanced anymore...it’d be risky for him and Sephiroth to go to the undergrounds, and even though he’s possibly more than capable of defending himself...I’d rather you go with them. And we can also take one of the lab assistants with us just in case…” The General trailed off.

Vincent looked somewhat torn, and he understood. The older man was worried that the journey would be hard on him. Sharp features rearranged themselves into an expression of deep contemplation that was not at all unlike his son’s and Angeal fought the urge to smile. Despite their differences, Sephiroth and his sire did have some similarities; mainly in the way they sat around and thought about things like solemn thunderclouds. Still, he truly wanted to be there, even if he wasn’t going to be particularly helpful it would be nice to see Banora again. Word of mouth was that most of the inland area was recovering quickly, and he did have fond memories there...what seemed like so long ago. The fact that Genesis had mentioned it at all was heartwarming, and a part of him was relieved in a desperate, quiet sort of way because he had waited so long to be on somewhat even footing with his childhood friend again. 

“If you’re talking about coming down into the mines with us…” His partner said haltingly before stopping. He appeared to hesitate before he sighed and continued. “Angeal, you’re my partner and I care about you very much but I’m not going to tell you what you can or can’t do.” A lopsided smile. “I don’t want you to go into the mines, no. But I’m not going to strap you to a tree to stop you either.” Dark locks fell over one shoulder as the gunslinger regarded him more fully. “In consideration of just going to Banora, of course we can go. I’d like to see where you grew up, where you spent your time. From what you’ve told me about it, it sounds beautiful. That’s not something I’m keen on missing.” 

And while he hadn’t really meant taking the lab assistant there in case any of them got injured, or because he had the intention of going down there with them-which he didn’t, because he was sure he’d be more of a hindrance than a helping hand-Angeal didn’t elaborate. He was still deliberating on whether he should or not, when there was the tell-tale hiss of the hinge mechanism before the door to the room swished open. 

Genesis was whispering something over his shoulder to Sephiroth who was pocketing his keycard, and behind them, a very overwrought Aerith was peeking just from the side of the doorframe; her green eyes catching his gaze. The relief that washed over her youthful features then brought a smile to the General’s lips. Raising a hand to beckon her inside, the last of the Cetras shook her head and the door closed shut before Angeal could insist non-verbally.

His redheaded childhood friend was now smiling and raising an eyebrow at the two of them lying on the bed; even though Vincent had moved to return to his seat to which the grey-haired soldier had mumbled a ‘Stay’ followed by his hand returning to hold onto his lover’s side. 

“Can’t stop getting yourself into trouble even now that you’re getting old ‘Geal, can you?” Genesis teased, settling down a Pilea peperomioides on his bedside table before coming to a stand at his side of the bed. “How-”

“Gen, I’m fine, just, can you please tell Aerith to come in too?” Angeal pleaded somewhat, nodding toward the door. “She was just by the door, tell her I said it’s alright and I want her here?”

Looking rather intrigued and yet frowning, the scarlet-haired ex-soldier tilted his head, walking toward the door as he was bid. “That girl outside?” While his childhood friend pressed the button to open the door, muttering something from the threshold, the blue-eyed First regarded his silver-haired comrade who was still standing at his station at the foot of the bed.

“How was the meeting?” Quickly following, Angeal added. “I’ve never been more glad for having you sit through one of those things than I’m now.”

Sephiroth opened his mouth to answer, but when Genesis returned and stood beside him-in a clash of ordinary clothes with the General in interim’s leathers-looping an arm around the waist of the youngest of them. It gave the aforementioned man pause, before he decided to continue with whatever he’d been about to say. Aerith who’d also followed the redhead inside opted to stand behind the duo and near the door for the time being.

“The usual.” was the dry response. “Reeve doesn’t know what to do half the time and he seems to think I’m the only thing keeping things together.” A silver brow was raised. “Which I’m not. He’s doing fine. I think I’ve just lent a helping hand too often. Lazard has been slowly taking over in that department.” Sephiroth looked pensive. “The Board was rankling for a tax gouge but we can’t do that right now, not with how much funding the cities power sources have cost. I think it’s more of a question of the older members not liking the limits to their paychecks. Which was expected but they don’t do enough paperwork to be paid so much.” 

Vincent made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort in unison with Genesis and the two of them avoided looking at each other while the silver-haired man continued.

“There’s also a problem with one of the simulations in the VR room. Apparently the Behemoth in the simulation was pixelated and now it’s rather like-according to Commander Yeals-‘fighting a censored monster of vaguely phallic shape’.” Silence reigned after this particular statement, and Sephiroth flushed before he abruptly changed the subject, seeming to realize that perhaps Angeal didn’t want a debriefing here and now. “It’s good to see you awake.” was the deadpan continuation. “How are you feeling?” 

Genesis was still recovering from his quiet chortling beside Sephiroth, and Angeal couldn’t stop wanting the mattress to open up on his side of the bed to swallow him. Sadly, it didn’t, and the grey-haired First decided to avoid looking at the blushing Aerith who was still maintaining her distance. “I’m fine, significantly better now,” A chuckle as he contemplated commenting on the totally random piece of information Sephiroth had just provided, but decided to let the youngest of them have his dignity in front of the only lady inside the room. Speaking of which, as he opened his mouth to tell the brunette to come over instead of standing there, the redhead cut him short.

“‘Geal, what happened?” And if he was any other person, he wouldn’t notice the worry that flashed in cerulean irises, or how those fingers tightened against the General in interim’s side.

Angeal had opened his mouth to reply when Vincent beat him to it. Again.

“I think it had something to do with the healing Angeal and Miss. Gainsborough discussed.” He interjected, shooting his lover an apologetic glance. 

“Healing?” Sephiroth interjected sharply.

“From what I understand from what Angeal told me, she has the ability to cure certain ailments via the Planet.” The gunslinger continued. “With her Cetra biology.” A look of disdain crossed the General in interim’s features for a split-second before his face settled into an expression of blank neutrality. Vincent was still talking. “Though, I think it’s safe to say that it wasn’t effective.” 

“That doesn’t particularly surprise me.” was the somewhat bitter reply. “It’s not like the Planet has been merciful or kind to any of us in the past, I wouldn’t expect anything benevolent from her now.” Green eyes cut to the bandage peeking out from under his father’s shirt. “And you got ‘burned’ for your trouble I see.”

Angeal was again about to answer that comment, when this time, it was Miss. Gainsborough’s turn to cut him off before he could’ve even opened his mouth.

“It has nothing to do with the Planet!” Stepping forward and coming to a stand beside the grey-haired soldier, Aerith faced Sephiroth and Genesis whose face was starting to turn rather grim-looking. The former General was sure that he’d probably have to step in before things could get out of hand really quickly, but he also didn’t want to cut the green-eyed brunette off or come off as though he was defending her. He knew just how much she despised having someone else stand up for her when she could clearly defend her point. “No offense, but there’s something wrong with you, with all four of you now. And I don’t know what it is, but the Planet is-...”

“Jenova cells.” Genesis interjected, the severe frown on his features quickly disappearing to give way to a malevolent smirk. “Oh, I remember you now. You’re that Cetra girl. Tell-...”

“-Gen stop!-” Angeal hissed, trying to raise himself into a half-sitting, half-reclining position; failed more or less, had to grit his teeth as Vincent scrambled to help him and get another pillow behind his back from somewhere on the other side of the bed. His childhood friend was about to object when Aerith continued wherever the aforementioned man had cut her mid-sentence.

“The Planet’s healing rain doesn’t discriminate like that! Besides, kindness, benevolence, and mercy…” A shake of a brown-wreathed head. “It doesn’t work like that. These things take time. Humans have been destroying the Planet for too long, straying too far away from the right path… And you should expect least of all from the Planet, because it was all your slaughter that pushed it toward calling on Omega just to survive!”

Genesis looked like he was about to explode, and if he wasn’t all about gracefulness and flair, Angeal was sure he would be fuming at his mouth. Raising a hand to silence the duo at the foot of the bed, his plea for civility went unheard when his redheaded former comrade started spitting words. 

“How dare-” Those azure eyes couldn’t get any bigger when they fixed him angrily. “Angeal-...”

If Sephiroth had been pale before, he was nearly translucent now. His stance was still casual, but those emerald irises were blazing. 

“I think we shall have to agree to disagree.” He replied, tight-lipped. “You see, I can understand my suffering, because I deserved it. But I don’t understand his suffering-” A gesture at Genesis. “-Or his.” Another at Angeal. “I don’t know anything about your Faith, and I don’t want to. But I saw how fervent Genesis was in his admiration of your ‘Planet’.” The word was spat out like a curse. “And then I watched him rot and die anyway. And now I’m watching the same thing from someone equally as good. So I don’t expect anything from the Planet for myself, no. But for them...I did...but I know better at this point. So you’ll forgive me if I’m less than impressed.” Silver locks swayed as the youngest of the four pivoted on his heel and headed toward the door before pausing. “Or you won’t. I don’t particularly care. I’m not blaming you, but I will blame a supposedly ‘good’ entity that’s never shown its face.” A glance at Angeal. “I’m sorry.” was the somewhat hoarse remark. “But at least Jenova knew how to take what she wanted...she didn’t hide behind her WEAPONS...or at the very least she didn’t hide her monstrosity behind her WEAPONS...and she didn’t need anyone to pray to her to mete out her ‘mercy.’” Another bitter look at Vincent, and then at the former General. “Some mercy.” 

The door slammed shut. 

“You see, I don’t know if you like being some sort of high priest of the planet, but I don’t think it’s something you chose, just like none of us chose to have Jenova cells inside us...and Goddess knows” Genesis spat the word like a curse, while it used to be a sacrament on his lips. “how much suffering that has brought all four of us, Sephiroth the most.” The redhead pressed his lips into a tight line, looking away for a brief moment before continuing. “I went to your sacred grounds, and guess what, it made sure that we wouldn’t stay there while I held nothing but awe in my heart for its beauty. And the goddess, the deity I so worshipped,” A bitter chuckle. “She’s forsaken me time and time again. Just as she forsook your people, just as she let your sacred grounds become the so called barren Forgotten Capital.” An infinitesimal pause. “So you see, the Cetra, you and us are not that different. Though unlike you, Sephiroth and I don’t force our aversion or inclination toward your kin down your throat. We’ve both killed people in our pasts and filled the Lifestream with ghosts, but we’ve also tried keeping it stuck to this planet when it tried to survive. Which we really didn’t have to...which resulted in a year of mourning for both of us. Another year of our lives separated instead of spent with each other. Another year lost.” The anger was doing a poor job of hiding how badly his childhood friend’s voice was shaking. “So, thank you for trying to save Angeal, but don’t you dare blame Sephiroth for something like that when you simply know nothing about him.” His childhood friend’s face contorted with a myriad of feelings that he was nearly unrecognizable. “Or I’d spill your blood myself, even if it’d condemn me to whatever hell your beloved Planet has in store for all four of us.”

Pivoting on his heel, the scarlet-haired ex-soldier retraced his lover’s footsteps, and finally it seemed like Angeal had earned the right to speak. “Sephiroth killed her boyfriend Gen.” This, the grey-haired First uttered in a low voice. And if it was trembling with strain-both emotional and physical-or if he tried to reach out and hold Aerith’s hand, no one acknowledged it as he continued. “Zack.” Pained. “Put yourself in he-”

In an instant his childhood friend was facing him again, those sapphire eyes swirling with angry tears. “Don’t,” The older man warned, and the grey-haired First effectively shut up. “You know the hell both of us have been through ‘ngeal… ” Pearl white teeth were worrying a sanguine lip. “I’m not kind like you, I’ll never be, and I don’t sympathize… so don’t.”

“But Gen…” Angeal pleaded.

“I’m sorry.” Aerith said quietly. “I di-”

“-Oh, you’re sorry now? What happened to all those biting wo-”

“-Stop cutting off my sentences!” The last of the Cetras spoke up. “I lost my mother, both of them to the ways of the Planet and Shinra! I know that pain, I’ve lost someone I loved, I’ve been mourning, but these things don’t work that way…” Delicate fingers freed themselves from Angeal’s loose hold and started wringing themselves. “You, all of you, should know better than that. People die and people are born every day, it’s not-...”

“-Right, right, I get it.” A nonchalant wave of a hand. “That the planet doesn’t really do any of this on purpose, that we shouldn’t fixate on the death of a person so close to us when we used to kill innocent people. That it should be ordinary for us,” A pause, and his former comrade looked almost bored. “Well, news flash, it’s not. I’ve almost died twice,” A finger pointed in the direction of the door, “He’s died once; had Lifestream rip through him. The same planet you so cherish and valiantly defend. And if it hadn’t, maybe, just maybe, none of those slaughters you’re blaming him for would have ever happened.” An almost invisible tear rolled down the older man’s face, before he furiously wiped it away. “These things… they’re not-” A grimace, and while his voice had been tremulous, now it rose in volume. “Why am I even wasting time explaining these things to you? Ask the man whom your mercy was about to kill.”

“Gen-”

“Shut up ‘Geal. Please, I’m warning you.” 

More steps while the former General heaved a vehement sigh and slumped defeatedly into the pillows before the door slid open and shut yet again. Beside him, Vincent was wearily taciturn. Realistically, expecting either man to understand or sympathize with the Planet wasn’t...well...it wasn’t realistic. In Sephiroth’s eyes, the Planet had taken Genesis from him...however vaguely and abstractly he might have finagled that conclusion. In Genesis’ eyes, the Planet had hurt Sephiroth...terribly...rejected him...and Angeal supposed in some ways it had. Their agnosticism wasn’t born out of ignorance, it was born out of years of pain and suffering, or from the pain and suffering of those that they held dear. And those whom they held dear were very few and far between so of course their reactions were going to be negative and bitter. They were men of combat, men who knew agony but embraced that agony because they thought it was giving them honor only to have it crash down around their ears. Like a conflagration...an explosion that never stopped...occasionally dropped to a smolder but never really died...and where was the Planet? 

“I’m not saying either of them acted appropriately considering the circumstances,” Vincent said dully. “But I think expecting them to have a positive point of view of this would be rather far-reaching.” Angeal gave him a despairing look, to which he received one of sincere apology in return. “They care for you.” was the simple continuation. “So of course this would upset them...disappoint them. It disappoints me...not because I expected to be let down-” He added hastily. “-But because I want you to be well, because I-” He looked uncertainly at Aerith. “-Because I love you-” He continued in a somewhat shy voice. “-And because you deserve it. Really, their reactions tell me everything I need to know about their depth of feeling for you, Angeal. Both of them love you, so of course this would upset them. It solidifies their preexisting opinions of what the Planet is to them. And maybe they were able to hang on to somewhat of a cynical viewpoint because-from their viewpoints-they’re...not good people. Genesis just said something along those lines. But you’ve always been good in their eyes...and for the Planet to not heal someone so good...that was the last nail in an already very old coffin.”

Heaving a vehement sigh, Angeal looked at the foot of the bed where his friends had stood as he contemplated those totally veritable words. The grey-haired First could understand why what had been said was uttered, and Vincent just confirmed what he’d already known, but the problem was that it’d happened in Aerith’s presence; and he really didn’t know what was going through the brunette’s head at the moment. The former General didn’t want her to shoulder more guilt than she already did, and at the same time, it was really hard not to take offense by Genesis’ biting words. The redhead could very much hurt those who he loved simply by uttering a single word, let alone someone whom he counted a stranger, or maybe an enemy even, if the blue-eyed soldier was willing to stretch it that far. 

Deciding that by letting this awkward silence hang, he wasn’t going to help none of them, he looked up ashamedly at the silent brunette standing beside the bed. “I’m really sorry, Aerith. I really didn’t mean it to get to this. I know my apologizing on their behalf doesn’t help, but for what it’s worth, I am sorry.” A pause. “Is there anything I could do to make this marginally better?” Another infinitesimal pause, and he briefly contemplated if covering her hand on the bed-rail would be a good idea. “I’m immensely grateful for what you did earlier...even if it didn’t work. It was your intent that really matters to me, and if Genesis and Sephiroth, or other people don’t see that-and not just about this particular case but in everything-it doesn’t change the fact that you’re trying your best. It doesn’t nullify your efforts, or at least it shouldn’t-you shouldn’t let it devalue the worth of what you’re doing.” Finally settling for doing it, Angeal tentatively covered dainty fingers with his own as a somber smile tugged on his lips. Finally those green eyes found his. “It’s what I used to tell Zack, but I’ll say it again to you,” A brown frown, and the former General tightened his hold slightly. “Hold on to your dreams.”

Vincent was silent again, and he could sense rather than see his inner conflict. He couldn’t guess the nature of it...only that he was very obviously deep in thought. Thankfully, the older man seemed content to keep his opinions quiet as they were. Retreating somewhat, the gunslinger disappeared in a familiar rustle of leather; not leaving the room but retreating somewhat to shuffle with something at the back. There were a few minutes of silence and then the crimson-eyed ex-Turk returned holding a bottle of water, which he set down on the bedside table with a small smile at his lover. Crimson eyes cut somewhat tentatively to Aerith.

“I just have one question.” He said quietly. “Was the purpose of your Healing Rain to remove the degradation or cleanse the Jenova cells from Angeal’s body?” 

Without hesitation, the last of the Cetras turned to face his partner fully, a vein of guilt running along her words as she spoke. “I swear I didn’t even think about the Jenova cells when I proposed, I had completely forgotten about them.” Slender fingers started wringing themselves in front of her pink dress as she looked down at the floor. “Only when your friend, Gen-Command-former Commander?” The youngest of them looked at him for reassurance, and Angeal nodded hastily, only for a brief flash of relief to flit across her youthful face as she continued. “Only when former Commander mentioned Jenova’s name I remembered what you had said at the press conference.” Raising one of her hands to her heart, she looked away. “There was always this niggling feeling...and while it was so virulent at first, I dismissed it as I came to know you better; because even though it told me that I should always be on my guard, I didn’t see any reason to.” Beryl irises cut to Vincent beside him. “I really didn’t think about it, and even if I did, I wouldn’t have known it would’ve had such an adverse reaction with Holy. I’d never tried it before, and the only time I tried to heal someone was Elfé and the people who were hurt after the Omega incident. I didn’t want to cause you or Angeal any pain. I just wanted to help cure his illness.” A brown-wreathed head hung. “I’m terribly sorry.”

Exactly what he hadn’t wanted to happen had happened, and while he was in the middle of twisting the cap of his bottled water open and giving his lover a grateful look, the grey-haired former General tried to think about how he was ever going to fix this. Because while he had been willing to give every option a go-so that maybe everything would take a turn for the better-he hadn’t wanted to do it at the expense of others.

“Aerith,” Angeal had to stop and clear his throat; swallowed and since none of it seemed to help, he had to take a sip, only to realize how thirsty he had been. Yet, he decided to put his drink aside for the time being in favor of saving the young girl from self-flagellation. “There’s really nothing you should be apologizing for. You meant well, and it was a beautiful rain I’m sure.” At this, those green eyes filled with so much sadness and pain that the grey-haired soldier thought that maybe it would be best to keep his mouth shut, but he continued against his better judgment. “I meant for other people, it was definitely beautiful. And before you start blaming yourself again, I didn’t really expect anything to happen when I agreed to your plan. It was our plan from then onwards. I accepted the risks-even though we didn’t know of them back then-so the responsibility of that falls solely on me.” Encircling a delicate wrist, the former Commander chuckled a little, keeping the mirth close to the surface so that the youngest of them wouldn’t be able to mistake it with anything else when he added. “Honestly, considering Genesis and Sephiroth’s track record with the planet, I feel truly blessed that I’m still alive.” The smile widened on his face. “I mean it in the best possible way, so stop beating yourself over it.”

“The reason I was asking wasn’t because I thought you’d do it to harm either of us.” Vincent said quietly, shaking his head. “And I’m glad to hear that you didn’t think of the Jenova cells, really.” When the two looked at him, confused...he smiled, a little sadly. “My reason is simple. Just that...if the intent had been to get rid of the cells...it would have been something that Genesis and Sephiroth should have had the opportunity to choose if they wanted.” A quiet laugh. “I’m glad they didn’t, obviously. But that’s the only reason I asked.” When no reply was forthcoming, he tilted his head. “Sephiroth is my son, and I know how horribly he has paid for something that he never asked for. The same goes for Genesis, save for the son part, of course. So...if there was ever that chance...I don’t know if they’d take it...but I’d still like to give them that.” 

When Aerith opened her mouth to speak he raised a hand.

“I’m not blaming you.” He said, putting an emphasis behind the ‘not’. “You already said you didn’t think about the cells, and even if you had, then it would be all four of us in here hurt in one way or another. And it wouldn’t have been your fault, I was just gauging your intent.” Angeal’s slight protective affrontation must have shown, because he chuckled. “I’m an ex-Turk,” He said dryly, the corners of his eyelids wrinkling somewhat as he smiled. “It’s a habit.” Aquiline features turned somewhat playful as he looked at Aerith. “You must forgive an old man his suspiciousness, my dear. But I’ve lived too long not to be cautious. Even when it comes to pretty young women.” When those fragile features looked somewhat indignant, he laughed again. “You’re young enough to be my daughter, even though I don’t look it. So to me, you are very young.” His expression gentled. “That’s not a bad thing, you have your whole life ahead of you to make mistakes. And this was a mistake, but not a deliberate or ill-minded one; don’t let the lack of success dampen your perception of good intentions.”

Angeal really couldn’t help but gaze affectionately during the time it took Vincent to conclude what he was saying; couldn’t stop that amazing warmth from blooming in his chest when his lover’s pale features gentled. And if Aerith wasn’t standing there in the room, he’d trace it with his fingertips and memorize it for the who-knows-how-many-times he already had. Intertwining their fingers, the former General turned to regard the somewhat less distressed-looking girl standing by their side, and covered her hand on the bed rail by his own. Smiling and closing his eyes as he nodded, the grey-haired soldier uttered quietly. “It’s alright.” Sobering up slightly, he added. “I don’t think I’d be able to come to the lower plate because Genesis is planning to take us all to Banora.” Tightening his hold on both his companions’ hands, the younger man prayed to whomever deity who was listening that worse wouldn’t come to pass-and they’d finally find something there in the undergrounds-before he continued. “If-...” The Banoran continued haltingly, cognizant about how what he was saying would affect his partner. “If something happened and I didn’t see you again, I wanted to say that I’m really proud of you, and even more so of the woman you are going to be.” 

For a moment, Aerith appeared to want to step forward, gasped inaudibly before collecting herself and cradled his hand with both of her pale, delicate ones. Shooting his lover an apologetic look-not really focusing on the ebon-haired man’s visage long enough to discern his emotions-Angeal detangled their hands to push himself into a sitting position and reached out to the youngest of them. “Come here.” He whispered, and it seemed that the brunette was waiting for his permission because the force with which she drew him forward-or rather responded to his hug-was enough to make him wince and grit his teeth. Gently patting a cherry-clad back, the former General whispered. “Be strong, and hold on to your dreams.” To which the last of the Cetras whispered something that its meaning escaped him entirely. Angeal held her there for the several moments that their embrace lasted, before ushering her with his words. “Go on now, you have lots of duties awaiting your supervision,” Pulling away and lowering himself to the bed as he put on a strong yet cheerful face, he added with a huff of laughter. “And this old man needs his rest.”

Green eyes darted between the two of them, and if they were swirling with unshed tears, neither of them commented on it; even as Aerith thanked both of them, bowing her head, before bidding both of them ‘Be safe’ and goodbyes and disappearing behind a sliding door.

Quickly, his attention reverted back to his lover. Vincent was staring the way she had gone, but he had the distinct impression his mind wasn’t on Aerith at all. He appeared to have put the entirety of the conversation behind him and was currently focused on something else. Those crimson eyes were somewhat worried, a little unfocused and apprehensive. It was the look he got whenever Sephiroth wasn’t around for more than a week, and Angeal understood. Because despite the fact that the younger man could be occasionally impossible, he was still his child, his only child...and he was going to worry about him whether he wanted to or not. The grey-haired First sincerely hoped that this wouldn’t affect their time in Banora. Realistically, it wouldn’t. His childhood friend and his lover were more temperate than they had been before, even if they riled easily. They might not always see eye to eye on some things, but in the end the important priorities won out over old grudges. 

“You do need rest.” was the quiet comment. When Angeal raised an eyebrow, the ex-Turk relented somewhat. “I’m not saying you have to, just that you’re not wrong.” Vincent suddenly looked incredibly weary but the impression of it disappeared as quickly as it had come. It was quickly followed by a kind of hopelessness that was equally fleeting, and a hand came down to clasp his. Those eyes smiled at him, gently...consideringly. “Can I get you anything?” 

Despite all his lover’s attempts, and possibly his desire for Angeal to go with whatever the gunslinger was endeavoring to do or say, the grey-haired soldier couldn’t stop himself from asking. “Yes. I might need your help in fact.” 

Gazing at his partner, he suddenly remembered his thirst from minutes ago; and as he drank almost three-fourths of the bottle, those crimson irises followed his movements patiently, his companion waiting for him to explain. Finally setting it aside, he shifted slightly to face the dark-haired gunman some more before elaborating. “What’s on your mind? And I know you’d always tell me the truth, but still, I want the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.” Smiling affectionately at the ex-Turk, the former General brought their joint hands up to brush his lips against the ivory of Vincent’s knuckles. “What’s bothering you?” He repeated quietly, still clasping those digits between his own and a breath away from his mouth as his fading cerulean irises observed the features in front of him.

His lover smiled, and it was a tired thing. Sadly, he reflected that lately, they were both tired...though it seemed like Vincent was working up to something...though he couldn’t say what. And he didn’t know how to help the older man get off that precipice, how to help him take the plunge that he was so dreading but at the same time, he knew he couldn’t push him to it. It wouldn’t do either of them any good. It felt like both of them were waiting for something...though he didn’t know what it was. He was-abruptly-accosted with the impression of two dark, lonely figures standing in front of a subway track...with one waiting to take the train...and one staying behind. The sensation of it left him sad in a sweet way...in an aching way that neither of them were ready to face yet. A hand touched his cheek and he drew himself back to the present; a present where scarlet eyes were looking at him like he was the universe drawn into one person and set before them like so much ethereal planar dust.

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” was the quiet confession. A smile that wasn’t really a smile...more halfway between a grimace and a smirk. “I think I’m just doing a poor job of hiding it right now, and you don’t deserve that.” A sigh...barely discernible. “I wish the day had been easier. Sometimes I just wish I could take your pain and make it mine.” The hand on him stroked just underneath his jaw. “That probably doesn’t help.” was the dry mutter. “I think I’m terrible at this sort of thing.” Cool lips were pressed to his forehead, and they trembled slightly before drawing upwards by a minimal iota to hover. “I just love you.” was the continuation, slightly nasally. “And I think I’m going about it miserably but I want you to know it’s not your fault.” A ragged exhale fluttered his bangs. “You’re quite magnificent, you know.” 

The smile that stretched across his lips was a bright thing, even in its weary quality, and there was no way he could simply stop the heat that rose up to dust his cheeks. He really wanted to raise himself higher on the mountain of cushions behind his back to cradle that head of starless night tresses against his beating heart, but he was afraid that those crimson irises might spill over, and that thought was almost enough for burning pinpricks to well in his own. Shifting to the other side, he made even more room for his lover to lean his back beside him on the pillow fort that was supporting him before snaking a hand behind and around strong broad shoulders. Tilting his head to the side, their distance didn’t accommodate for the crown of his head to lean against the older man’s temple, and he was tall enough that leaning his head on the gunslinger’s shoulder couldn’t work. Nonetheless, it was their proximity that Angeal cherished, this sense of nearness, of stillness even though in reality both of them were falling apart; and while his was physical, he wished he could take his companion’s anguish and sorrow and make it his own. To see him smile that minute yet priceless, beautiful thing that the former General loved so much. 

“At least one of us finds me magnificent.” The humor of his sentence was probably offset as he sighed and closed his eyes. The grey-haired soldier could feel slumber licking at his consciousness, but there were still words he needed to say. “I don’t want you to hide anything from me, just as I can’t hide any of it from you anymore; even the amount of pain I am in…” A solemn sigh. “But I’m not going to push you, if that’s the way you want to deal with things.” Raising his other hand to place his palm against the steady beat of his partner’s heart, Angeal tried to look up at the older man’s beautiful profile through midnight colored bangs. “What I’m trying to say is, even though things have changed between us, it doesn’t mean that you have to shoulder the burden of it alone. I’m still right here beside you, and I love you still, more than I ever have. I’m immeasurably grateful, and-...” Seemingly having lost his thread of thought, the Banoran tried again after several seconds of contemplation. “I’m here if you want to talk to me about it all, and if not me, then there’s always Sephiroth and Genesis.”

Vincent’s answering snort wasn’t directed at him.

“Talking to Sephiroth is like talking to a younger, slightly angrier version of myself.” was the dry reply, tinged with humor. “Genesis has enough to worry about with him and with…” A moment's hesitation. “Well, he’s worried about you too. And it’s not your fault, you can’t help it. But I’m not going to burden him with even more when he already has to de-self-flagellate Sephiroth on a daily to bi daily basis.” The gunslinger vaguely waved his hand. “Regardless, if five to ten minutes of verbal commiseration didn’t do the trick, Genesis’ methods of ‘comfort’ might involve throwing me onto a bed and ravishing the ‘misery’ out of me and I am far too old and far too emotionally attached to you to allow that to happen.” The older man sobered somewhat. “I’m not hiding anything from you.” was the quiet continuation. “And really, you’ve been more than supportive, it’s just a hard thing to conscience.” A forefinger ran gently down Angeal’s arm. “Today threw me somewhat...that’s all. I was frightened for you and I was helpless, in a sense. It’s an ugly feeling, but I’ll get over it.” An exhalation. “What’s important is that you’re okay.” There was another pause and he knew both of them were aware that it was a superfluous statement. “Maybe it’s more about the fact that right now, we’re together. I can’t look past that.” 

It was easy, the humor, the understanding, the affection. Really, everything between them came so naturally that sometimes when he thought about it, it didn’t stop surprising him. It warmed his heart in more ways than one just to hear the older man talk. If he could, he would trace the humor of his statements with his fingertips as it flowed with the velvet of his voice…to hear his rare, quiet laughter more often. But in all honesty, he was content and grateful for them to just be together like Vincent had said; this sense of quiet and calm, the tranquility of it, even if it had to happen after something that could have been the end of him. 

For a moment, his thoughts lulled him to sleep, but quickly he jerked awake, because the ebon-haired gunslinger had been talking to him. It was terribly rude to fall asleep when someone was trying to converse with you. His movement was the onset of another wave of pain, and it also surprised his companion who seemed to have been watching him doze off. However, before Vincent could blame it on himself, Angeal opened his mouth to explain. “I woke myself up. Sorry. It wasn’t anything you did. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” A short laugh. “Believe it or not, I was thinking about us...you being here with me.” In a fashion that Genesis would probably find incredibly hilarious, the grey-haired First settled against his partner, snuggling him somewhat, as he closed his eyes. “Considering that he kissed you, I don’t find it hard to believe if he tried to do that.” His partner tensed against him a little, only to relax when he probably realized what, or whom Angeal was talking about. “I’d watch out for surprise spars too, though. If his methods with Sephiroth are to be taken into account. Considering how you just confessed to being an older, more temperate version of him.” A not-so-much innocent yet weary laugh, and he winced-or rather cringed-as he realized the other meaning behind his words; decided to promptly change the subject as he sobered up. “I’m grateful that you’re mostly unharmed, and that you’re here with me.” A long pause, during which he listened to the rhythm of their breaths. “I might fall asleep again, but if you wanted to leave, that’s alright.”

“I’d better start using the ventilation shafts as a method of transport.” was the good-humored response, quiet against him. “Because I’d definitely lose against him in a spar. I think I’ll stay here.” His lover added. There was a nudge against his side as Vincent nuzzled closer. Another stretch of lazy timespace yawned between them, and when his lover spoke again his voice was heavy with sleep. 

“...I don’t want to miss a single moment.” 

Angeal chuckled lazily, quietly even as he felt sleep close in on him. Draping a heavy arm over and ‘round his lover’s waist, he was accosted with the image of their first time in Corel, after their first time together, when his head had been pillowed against the steady beat of his partner’s chest. Vaguely, he felt his fingers twitch where they were holding onto the fabric covering his companion’s lithe form, tightening minutely. Despite everything that could’ve gone differently, despite the hurdles that were thrown in their path, they’d still followed through, together, every step of the way.

And that was all that mattered. 

That was why slumber found him with a smile on his lips, and even if the ‘I love you’ he uttered was something garbled and unintelligible, Angeal couldn’t fight off the peace and comfort of his lover’s embrace which was gently pulling him into the realm of dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Important A/N:** From this chapter onwards, the story branches into two different endings. One is pretty tragic and the other is the exact opposite, one could say. When we were writing this, we couldn't choose between either and decided to write both and leave that choice to the readers. But if you'd rather spare yourself the tragedy and the heartbreak, skip the next chapter and read the 'alternate ending' one. I'd be publishing two chapters on every update from here on out, and the first one would always be the tragic ending choice while the second would be set in the alternate-ending-verse. Neither of these endings take precedence over the other in my opinion, and personally, I love and appreciate both of them equally. You're welcome to read either or both, the choice is yours. 
> 
> Hopefully you've enjoyed the story so far, and I'd be looking forward to hearing your thoughts.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is one long-ass, tragic chapter. Be warned. Also, if you don't want to go down the tragic route, this chapter is not for you, skip to the next one. But if you've decided on this one or giving both endings a try, then you're in the right place.

...Nothing. 

Stepping out into the blinding light of the midday sun, Vincent shielded his eyes and glared upwards...wished that the offending solar body would simply explode and extinguish itself...so great was his disappointment. Beside him, Sephiroth was watching him with a kind of uncertain apprehension. Genesis had marched somewhat ahead...unusually silent...uncharacteristically stiff. The sense of unified emotionalism was as painful as it was foreign. It was so rare for them to be on the same page about anything, and when they were it was usually only for trivial matters. This was something weighty...something incredibly important and detrimental to all of them, and at the end of it all the resounding conclusion was  _ nothing.  _ Emptiness...bereftness. The impression of it was so vacant that it left him feeling lightheaded and groundless, desperate in a way he didn’t know he could be desperate...and yet resigned at the same time. 

They’d made it to Banora in good time.

In the end, it only took a week for them to really sort things through and figure out the best way to go about getting there. He’d taken up Angeal’s suggestion of a tech, but the tech in question was an older, grandmotherly woman who had probably not done much more than hand over beakers and Bunsen burners in her last days working for Hollander. Still, she knew her way around and she was the only person he felt remotely comfortable leaving Angeal with for extended periods of time. And he only felt like Angeal  _ needed  _ the company because they were in the place where his mother had died and it only seemed fair that there was someone there. If not to always be around him, to be available should he need anything. She was accommodating but understanding of space, didn’t ask questions and didn’t show pity where it wasn’t needed. His lover didn’t needed to be coddled, he just needed to be understood, and Vincent had chosen her because she was emphatic but professional and he knew his partner would appreciate it. 

In the end, Genesis and Sephiroth let the conversation with Aerith go.

They didn’t discuss it, because no matter what, they weren’t going to see eye to eye, and there was great clarity to his son’s outlook he couldn’t overthrow without sounding like a hypocrite. Instead, they went about their plans as they’d intended to, meeting a few days after the incident with the Healing Rain and putting their plans into action regardless of personal misgivings. Vincent, Angeal, and Sephiroth filed for leave with Lazard and once they were given approval they were good to go. They ended up flying, mostly because it was quicker and more comfortable. It was possible to drive to Banora but it would take too long and the roads there were less travel-worn than those going from-say-Junon and Midgar. The crimson-eyed gunslinger didn’t relish the idea of his sick partner jostling around in a car or a truck for hours on end. And despite the fact that Angeal would likely be the last person to complain, he still didn’t want to put him in any type of discomfort because it wasn’t necessary and they had the resources to do otherwise. They left with as little fuss and fanfare as possible and as the continent retreated behind them he couldn’t help but feel like this was a good decision.

They ended up staying in an inn where Genesis had briefly worked as an adolescent. 

Or, rather, the refurbished version of the inn where Genesis had worked as an adolescent. Sephiroth had gone to the epicenter of the population zone before abruptly changing his trajectory to the farmland surrounding it. Thankfully, it seemed that Shinra’s efforts to aid the populace across Gaia had done wonders, because the reconstruction efforts were-for the most part-complete by the time they arrived. Had he not been with two people who’d grown up there, Vincent would never have known anything was different; but the look on Angeal and Genesis’ faces said otherwise. He supposed that the differences were subtle, but no less painful because it was a statement of how much had changed. Upon their arrival, people gave them wide berth...but no one received greater avoidance than his son. From what he remembered reading of the reports, the majority of the populace who came in contact with the younger man during his cross-continental slaughter were dead. Those who remained were family members of the deceased and while they knew about the horrors Shinra had bestowed upon their men...it seemed like old wounds took a long time to heal.

They made the best of it.

Settling in for the night in two separate rooms, they determined to visit the hill above the factory in the morning, and when the sun rose over the arcing trunks of the Banora Whites they got up early and took their breakfasts elsewhere while the rest of the town waited a little bit longer to greet the day. It was a quiet time, a peaceful time...and they made it easy between the four of them. The tech stayed behind at the inn and Vincent let Angeal lean on him while they made their way there; the two of them taking up the back while Sephiroth and Genesis plodded on a little bit ahead...occasionally exchanging glances like they were reliving something the ex-Turk and his blue-eyed partner were not privy to. They broke their fast silhouetted against the rising sol and it was a soothing thing...like a balm on the weary soul. That day and the next progressed in a similar fashion; they rose early to avoid the ‘crowds’ and wandered around in the country...sometimes sitting in the back of a pickup they had rented or sometimes just walking. 

They talked of idle things...simple things. Sephiroth and Genesis were more playful than them...more restless and just... _ younger  _ overall. And despite the fact that he occasionally rolled his eyes at them, Vincent took a great amount of fond satisfaction in seeing Sephiroth knock Genesis into a wheatfield with very little preamble. He got the distinct sensation that the younger man was getting some sort of good-natured revenge but he was forced to leave it to supposition because they immediately began to snog each other like brainless teenagers. Angeal didn’t want to see that and neither did he. A lot of their moments were like that...just the two of them. Walking either a bit behind or ahead...fingers brushing...exchanging smiles and glances like there was nothing wrong with the world. Sunlight filtered through arched...pale trees laden with heavy fruit blooming at the wrong time of year and it was  _ beautiful  _ in an aching, sweet way. During the day they visited places Genesis and Angeal had frequented during their childhoods; a stream behind a rivermill, a lakeside nook where fish shimmered just behind the surface like jewels...a run-down shack in the middle of a field that was-at this point-practically falling apart. 

Nights were different. 

Nights were spent lying together in a bed...the two of them...listening to the other breathe. Soft blankets and stubble, the scent of shaving cream and starch and the flicker of dark-lashed lids. That pained look in those stoic, strong features that seemed to grow harder to hide day by day. And Vincent would never forget when he was woken up in the dead of night, when large, warm palms shook him awake to lead him out of the inn and into the town square...his bandanna covering his eyes until they were just next to the fountain. When it fell away the stars were like an explosion across the cosmos...thousands...millions of them glittering before them and it took his breath away. It left him feeling small and insignificant in the face of so much. They made love that night. Though not so much as they had in nearer times...more like they had the first time...with Vincent bringing himself to completion while Angeal watched...those eyes shining in the dark of the room as he shivered...spent and breathless against the coverlets as familiar fingers traced the contours of his body like he was the most beautiful thing the younger man had ever seen. 

The caverns were disastrous.

Mostly because they were so dangerous. The monsters they encountered there were of a caliber he was unaccustomed to dealing with. Genesis and Sephiroth fared somewhat better, but all of them had wounds for their troubles. They left Angeal at the inn with the tech, standing at the entryway looking anxious as he stared at their retreating backs. It was strange to think that such a place had once been a base for Shinra...that the darkness within was a ghostly reminder of what had come to pass. When you were looking into the slavering jaws of a marlboro it didn’t particularly matter, but it was still strange. And it was equally strange to fight as a unit with the two younger men. To put his strength forward beside theirs with equal determination because they believed in what- _ who- _ they were fighting for. The song of the sword, the retort of the gun...all of it was the same in the end. All of them knew blood and death but they did not  _ want  _ this death because the cost of it was so high...the idea of it was so heinous. And they all suffered wounds...suffered scrapes, scratches, and burns for their troubles. Deeper, deeper and deeper and still nothing. He didn’t know how long they were down there...only that eventually they could go no further because the twisting, turning maze of passages ended in a dead end and there was nothing there but a statue of the Planet in human form. It was silent before them...silent even when Genesis fell to his knees and begged. And there was nothing more terrible than seeing someone he  _ knew  _ was so strong supplicate before a deity that had forever ignored him. 

When the begging didn’t work, Genesis screamed.

It took Sephiroth dragging him away somewhat for him to come back to himself, for his enraged and aggrieved vociferations to turn into something that sounded like a sob before he pulled himself together. And they’d looked at each other...empty-handed and hopeless and acknowledging. Because they had nothing to offer now. This had been their last hope...their last stand and nothing had come of it. Drenched in the blood of innumerable creatures from the depths...weary and bruised and broken and this was what had come of it. Vincent wanted to scream, wanted to yell and rage like his son’s lover had but instead he felt numb...felt like every system in his body was failing to give him the response he wanted, the response he  _ needed.  _ At the same time he could acknowledge that nothing he said or did could amount to enough expression to rid himself of what he was feeling entirely...nothing could measure up to it because it was so large it felt like it was eating him alive. 

...And so they were there.

Shivering, Vincent pulled himself from his thoughts...looked to the side at Sephiroth, who blinked slowly at him before moving ahead to Genesis...who had stopped and was staring at the path back to town like he was dreading the journey. And the older man wanted to be the one to shoulder the burden in its entirety, but he knew he couldn’t. Not because he didn’t want to but because they all cared about Angeal. And he loved Angeal...loved him with every facet of his being but Angeal was practically Genesis’ brother. They’d known each other longer than he’d known either of them existed. He couldn’t take that from them just because he was a romantic facet. And it was more than that...he wasn’t dismissing his place in his partner’s life...but right now...both of them would need family to carry on. There was never a time where he’d regretted the length of the dissention between them more...regretted how long it had taken them all to get along. And there was a part of him that  _ resented  _ that it had taken this long despite their efforts, but he couldn’t let his anger get in the way of what was before them.

Because now...the three of them had to tell Angeal that he was going to die, and there was nothing they could do about it. 

Realistically, it was something Vincent knew that his partner had accepted a long time ago. Before now, it was an idealism he’d refused to acknowledge because he was selfish and madly in love, but now he couldn’t. They had exhausted all of their options...had pushed forward until they couldn’t push anymore and it was  _ time.  _ But he didn’t know how to accept it...didn’t know how to move forward because he was afraid...terribly afraid. And despite the fact that Sephiroth had his arm around Genesis those viridian eyes were looking at him with an expression that was so near to pity he wanted to  _ scream.  _ He didn’t want pity, he didn’t want understanding or concern or sympathy or reassurance.  _ He wanted Angeal.  _ And it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair because they had all worked so  _ hard  _ and they had tried and tried and this was what was to come of it and-

_ “-Dad...”  _

Vincent jerked, really he recoiled because suddenly Sephiroth was standing right in front of him, his hand outstretched. It was a giving gesture, something that the younger man rarely offered and he knew he ought to be grateful for it. Instead, he wanted to say  _ ‘how dare you.’  _ Because  _ how dare he  _ reserve that title for one of the worst moments in his life,  _ how dare he  _ reach out to him when he didn’t have anything to proffer in return.  _ How dare he  _ try and meet him halfway when he was  _ falling  _ and-.

_ “-Stop.”  _

A gasp, the breath that came from his throat was a gasp, and it took every fiber in his body to pull himself back together once he’d released it. Straightening, the former Turk closed his eyes and attempted to center himself...to put himself in the here and now because that was what he  _ had  _ to do. When his eyelids lifted again, his son had moved away somewhat...though not so far that he wouldn’t be able to proffer aid should he need it. And the sun was  _ bright,  _ it was  _ too bright  _ and too happy for this sort of thing but they needed to do it anyway. Opening his mouth, the older man slammed a door on his own emotionalism and spoke.

“We should all tell him, together.” When neither of his companions responded, Vincent leveled them with a sincere expression. “All of us care about Angeal...all of us worked hard to help him. This should be something we do together.” 

There was a shaky exhale from Genesis, the creak of a leather glove from how hard he was clenching his hand, before he turned around to face him; came to a stand next to Sephiroth and held onto the black leather cladding his son’s waist in a gesture Vincent had come to know as seeking support and comfort. Those pale cerise lips pressed into a tight line a couple of times before the redhead finally decided to speak what he’d been mulling over for the entirety of the past several moments.

“There’s something you should know.” was the uneven utterance, lacking the usual confidence that accompanied his son’s lover’s voice. “I don’t know if Angeal’s told you, and I-” A gravid pause filled with uncertainty. “I’d understand if he hasn’t because I know it’s hard for him, and it’s probably hard for you too… I don’t think you’d blame him, I just want you to consider-” A deep inhale as Genesis looked away. “ _ How madly he loves you. _ ” When Vincent was about to open his mouth because the foreboding feeling twisting in his gut was making him rather impatient to hear the end of what the former Commander was building up to, the hand holding onto Sephiroth left its post to shakily come up to ask for a minute. “Angeal wants to be cremated, and he wants to go,  _ here… _ ” And it seemed that if the scarlet-haired First stopped, he wouldn’t be able to get the courage to continue, so it was all spoken in a rush, word after dizzying, staggering word. “He told me again a while back… And I’d venture to guess that’s why he’s brought the tech with us… for euthanasia.”

It was a lot like getting slapped in the face.

Sephiroth stiffened next to him, wide green eyes snapped disbelievingly to his lover and for the first time, Vincent had the privilege-or the sincere invasion of privacy-of seeing the General in interim look truly  _ angry  _ at Genesis. And it wasn’t the irascible, normal anger tinged with uncertain or insecurity. The look in those eyes was  _ rage,  _ intermittent, almost incoherent rage-and Vincent-through his grief-shook his head. Because despite the fact that it was thoughtless, it was probably said in good faith. His immediate sense of emotion was betrayal. Because this was something Angeal should have shared with him. The minute he felt it, he felt significantly better...because this was not something Angeal would hide from him. Angeal would never hide his preferred method of death because he thought he couldn’t deal with it because that was the kind of couple they were. At the same time, a cold fear niggling at the back of his mind insisted that it was a possibility, because he’d been so  _ needy  _ in the past few weeks that maybe his lover had felt like he couldn’t handle it. The sense of betrayal deepened with his inner conflict, because he would never have refused Angeal peace. Never. But if that was what he intended and he hadn’t  _ told  _ him…

“Excuse me.” Sephiroth said tightly before walking several feet away, nearly disappearing into the undergrowth. He could sense, rather than see the younger man collecting himself. And he wished he had the wherewithal to do the same. 

Genesis’ face dropped almost immediately, a strange look- _ maybe it was hurt? _ -fleeting across his visage. He turned to regard him then, leaning somewhat on Rapier-which he had summoned in the middle of their battle when his standard issue sword had broken in half-before looking down at the fertile soil beneath their feet. “I’m sorry if I chose the wrongest moment to say it, but I thought… I thought you should know… I-I-...” Shaking an auburn head, it jerked upwards immediately, a determined look flashing in azure eyes as he strode past him, throwing over his shoulder as he passed him by. “I’m sorry Vincent.”

And it oddly felt like what people told each other at funerals. As though that last ‘for your loss’ part was omitted and yet it was glaring him in his face, even as Genesis’ steps started echoing in the caves behind him. Sephiroth was still, eerily silent and gazing at nothing at all. Vincent didn't know what to do... what to say...how to  _ move.  _ Didn't know why the black hole inside of him had suddenly gotten darker...had suddenly turned into a gaping void that spilled over like a bleeding wound...trickled into everything he had thought he had and spread spider veins across it...like onyx cardiovascular tracks...like ink during a venogram. Because this was the sort of thing couples talked about...not necessarily to change their minds but to prepare the other.. _ each _ other. Euthanasia was not a casual subject in a relationship, it was a discussion, one that took place over days...weeks...months-!

“-Did he tell you?”

Sephiroth's voice barely registered over the roar in his ears. Shaking his head, Vincent blinked, blinked again. When he opened his mouth he didn't recognize his voice.

“I...what?”

“Did. Angeal. Tell. You.” was the response through clenched teeth. 

The question seemed to solidify the despair in him... seemed to make it a physical thing that quivered in his chest like a violin string vibrating at high pitch. 

“...No.” he breathed, and his tone was that of despairing, breathless denial.

His son's visage contorted, and it was hard to tell what he was thinking or feeling. He seemed torn between anger, sadness and the need to try and comfort him. Sephiroth began to pace-appeared to give it up upon the second pass-tugged at a strand of hair like he was trying to rationalize something. 

“Then you never should have been told,” the green-eyed first spat. Vincent must have looked somewhat hysterical because the silver-haired man closed his eyes, shook his head with his brows drawn together in an expression of agony. “If Angeal hasn't told you yet, you were never meant to be told,” the younger man continued, his voice hoarse. “And Genesis-!” Masamune disappeared into the ether with somewhat more force than was probably necessary. With his task done, the General in interim continued. “This isn't Angeal at all,” he continued unsteadily. “But, he's degrading-”

“-Don't,” Vincent snapped, one hand trembling, clenched at his side. “Don't try and tell me a  _ lack of cognizant mentality  _ was the reason why I wasn't included in this.”

“We don't know for sure,” Sephiroth pointed out. 

“We don't,” Vincent agreed. “But if it's true, it means that Angeal thought that I either wouldn't support him in it or that-at the time-I couldn't handle it. Which tells  _ me  _ that all- _ a lot- _ of my perceptions of  _ his  _ perceptions of me were wrong.  _ Tell me I'm wrong.”  _ he whispered forcefully to the younger man. Sephiroth opened his mouth, closed it again and then looked away. “Let's go,” the ex-Turk said dully, striding to the path. Before starting down it, he turned back. “I'd begun to accept it you know,” he said bitterly. “Enough that I was almost ready to tell him. Now I have to accept the fact that whether I let him go or not, the methodology was set in stone before I could even wrap my head around it.” He bit his lip. “That...that makes me feel…”

“Worthless,” Sephiroth cut in, falling into step beside him. “Or maybe somewhat negligible,” he amended when the gunslinger shook his head. “I felt the same... when Genesis told me he was leaving.” A bend in the path before an arch of Banora Whites and the town came into view. “This is... different,” his son acceded. “But I know it doesn't hurt any less.” That proud jaw tightened. “And I am  _ sorry _ you had to find out like that...if it's true...if you were meant to at all.”

There was a long silence as they made the trek back. Only when they were nearly at their destination did either speak again. 

“Don't let this come between you-” Vincent began as they stepped out into the square, but he was cut off. 

“-Begging your pardon,” Sephiroth said tightly. “But that's none of your business.” 

And so they passed by the fountain where Angeal was standing at the inn waiting for them with Genesis by his side. 

The smile on his lover’s lips told him that despite the fact that his son’s lover had reached his partner sooner, he’d in fact respected their decision earlier to tell the grey-haired First together about what they hadn’t found in the caves. It didn’t make Vincent feel any better; neither did the frown that immediately etched itself into Angeal’s face. The gunslinger was certain something must have shown on his visage. For a moment of dazed thought, he tried to think if he should hold it back, to guard his expression because if he left it open, his companion might see the void that had suddenly yawned inside him. It was the General’s tired voice however that brought him out of his reverie.

“I’m sorry I didn’t accompany you to the entrance of the caves at least, my legs were giving out under me by the time I couldn’t see you retreat anymore.” was the good-natured utterance as pale sapphire eyes roamed over their countenances. “Well?” When no answer was forthcoming, Angeal continued. “It seems all of you’ve decided to be suddenly tight-lipped.” A sigh. “You don’t need to tell me. I can see it in all of you.” A broad back turned to face the three of them-who certainly looked and felt worse for wear-before the now familiar  _ tap, tap _ of the end of his lover’s cane began; the grey-haired man making his slow way past them to sit down at the edge of the fountain.

“I didn’t tell him anything.” Genesis mumbled almost inaudibly, uncharacteristically, as though he felt the need that he should explain himself; and those cerulean eyes were refusing to meet either of them.

Vincent found himself looking at Sephiroth, who was studying the molding of the inn behind them with a single-minded ferocity. Wearily, Vincent acknowledged that at this point...it didn't matter. Whether Angeal had chosen the methodology or not...there was still no avoiding the result. He could deal with the possibility of his decision not to talk to him when he was truly alone... permanently. Love wasn't an excuse, indecision was not an excuse, lack of faith in him was not an excuse-and it was an insult-for now, he would focus elsewhere, because if he didn't, the reality of it was going to murder him. Stepping forward, Vincent pushed his hurt and morbidity to the side... shoved it into a locked box no one would ever see it and arranged his features into sorrowful tenderness. Sinking down next to his partner, Vincent took one of his hands and enclosed it in both of his own.

“I'm sorry,” he said sadly. “We...we didn't find anything.” He bowed his head. “I'm  _ so sorry-!”  _ And he didn't know what he was apologizing for...for their failure in the caverns or for not being enough...not being reliable enough to confide in. Taking a shaky breath he lifted one hand to cup a familiar cheek. Sephiroth made a strangled noise like a wounded animal but he ignored it. He had to look past this...had to be here,  _ now.  _ “I love you,” he continued. “And whatever you want to do, I s-support you. I'm-I’m here.”

Angeal looked like Vincent had just emptied a round of bullets inside his chest, or rather taken Buster Sword and stabbed him with it. Those familiar blue eyes were riddled with so much pain, and the frown couldn’t get any deeper on his pale forehead. “Why are you apologizing?” was an equally pained gasp, or a hiss, whichever, but it was still agonized. His wrist was encircled by his lover’s fingers before the younger man brought his hand to his lips, brushing a kiss at the center of his palm. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” A pause and those irises that had been hidden behind dark-wreathed lids gazed up at him. “Nothing.” It was stated more assertively, before his partner looked at the younger duo behind Vincent’s back, and then regarded him. “You all have work, we can stay here if you want, or we can leave right now. I don’t think it’s really my call.”

There was a rustle of clothes behind him-not leather, or rather unlike the swish of his son’s trench coat, so maybe Genesis-but Vincent couldn’t care any less. 

“We're here now,” Sephiroth cut in, and he suddenly sounded a thousand years old. Glancing upwards, Vincent saw the younger man looking the way Genesis must have gone. “Let-” he paused and appeared to collect himself. “If you need anything.” he said awkwardly. 

“Thank you,” Vincent muttered distractedly. “You should-” he exhaled. “-You know already.” he said dryly. 

Green eyes were a kaleidoscope of emotion. 

“I do, and I am.” was the clipped reply before his son retreated as well. 

Turning back to his lover, Vincent attempted to smile again. 

“We can stay,” he said gently. “As long as you like. We took leave for a while, we should enjoy it. I'd say we deserve it.” The humor in his tone fell a bit flat but he kept trying. “I still haven't tried a dumbapple, I think I'd be missing something vital if I didn't.” His lips turned downward at the corner before he could stop it-to the right-and it took him a moment to regather himself. “I'm just sorry we didn't find anything,” he replied, Sephiroth's words in regards to  _ 'never meant to know’  _ echoing in his head. “Disappointed,” he amended when Angeal looked further agonized. Another attempt at a smile and it was so poor it forced a laugh out of him that was more bitter than mirthful. “I just…I'm…”- _ Really going to miss you- _ “I love you,” he finished miserably. When his partner continued to look hurt he threw caution to the wind and wrapped his arms around him-very gently-and kissed his cheek. “I'm alright,” he added hastily. “Just overwrought.”

Angeal tensed in his embrace, those blue irises were almost spilling over. His lover looked away, rubbed his eyes with a forefinger and a thumb and took a few breaths to calm himself. “We can take as many dumbapples with us as you want.” His poor attempt at a smile was now mirrored at him. “I don’t want to stay here when it’s hurting you, and don’t tell me it isn’t. I don’t know what happened at the caves, and I don’t think any one of you wants to tell me, but whatever it is, I don’t…” The grey-haired man trailed off, sighed before cradling his hands together in big palms and gazed into his eyes. “I just want to be with you, wherever we go...for as long as I  _ can _ …” And the pained expression returned to his partner’s eternally weary features. “I know it’s selfish, but I don’t want to see you like this… So  _ please _ , either tell me what’s wrong, and I swear I won’t try to fix anything, even though I want this dark pall gone, I’d just listen...Vincent…” Supplicative. Almost desperate in its quiet quality. Pleading. 

_ Oh.  _

Vincent was drawn up short. Because maybe Genesis was wrong, had been wrong. And the elation he felt was short-lived because if Genesis was _wrong _this spelled out _a lot _of problems. Firstly, between Sephiroth and Genesis...which-he supposed-he couldn't stop at this point. That ball was already rolling and they'd get to the bottom and work things out eventually if Sephiroth kept his head on and Genesis didn't implode with guilt. Secondly, this could cause an issue between Genesis and Angeal...and as much as he didn't appreciate the redhead's methodology or his supposition, he didn't want to cause a rift between him and his childhood friend. Not now. That was unacceptable. He couldn't throw Genesis under the bus because he had assumed something. He wasn't going to repay crassness with crassness. Of course, that meant he couldn't be entirely _honest _with Angeal, but what was a little dishonesty in the face of a friendship? Opening his mouth, Vincent licked his lips. 

“I…” he began hesitantly. “I thought you'd asked for the tech because…” he hung his head. “I thought if we didn't find anything you might choose to...go.” When Angeal looked even more upset he hurried on. “I wouldn't blame you,” he said quietly. “I know how much pain you're in...and no one deserves that. I'm not saying I want that. I  _ don't.”  _ He gritted his teeth and ignored the hot pinpricks behind his eyes. “Just-! That, I'm telling you it's okay. It's okay if you want to let go. And I was wrong-I think. But...I don't want you to stay just because I'm the one hanging on. I don't want to run you to ruin, you don't deserve that.” He sighed. “And the idea of it...it...made me think that if you were considering that…I just wished you'd have told me about it. Because it's not something you should shoulder alone, and I hope you wouldn't think that I'd discourage you from it...or not support you.” He grimaced. “At the same time, I know I'm not the ideal confidante.” Vincent closed his eyes. “But...it doesn't matter regardless, I just don't want to hold you here because I'm selfish.”

The younger man seemed to deflate once his words were over, swayed dangerously only to have Vincent reach out and hold his shoulder even as he steadied himself with his cane. “_I’m sorry…_” was a quiet whisper as that proud back bowed, shoulders hunched forward and the apology kept getting repeated in a tremulous voice that was thick with tears. And the ebon-haired gunslinger didn’t really have the chance to seek those eyes because Angeal leant his forehead on the hand holding onto the handle of his cane. “I’m sorry…” A sharp intake of breath. “_I didn’t want to hurt you…_” A gravid pause in which his lover finally pulled himself together and looked up with tears streaming down his face. “I didn’t know how to go about it…didn’t know how to tell you…” A swallow. “You’re my beloved, the only one I’ve ever loved so much, and yet, I’ve caused you so much anguish...and I still _will_...even when I’m gone...so much sorrow… You don’t deserve that. You always deserved better…” A trembling hand rose, palm up in a very much beseeching gesture. “I didn’t think that you’d discourage me, or you wouldn’t support me, it doesn’t mean that I didn’t think I could confide in you… I guess…I was waiting for you to pull the trigger first… waiting for you to tell me that you were ready to let me go…” And when those blue eyes gazed up at him, there was a myriad of emotions swirling in them. “Forgive me if I was _a coward_…” And while the hand was still there for him to take, those eyes were downcast. “You mean _everything _to me…” 

Genesis was  _ right. _

He didn't know what was worse. A part of him hated himself for protecting the redhead from something that was now a verity...but he'd made his bed...he was going to lie in it. The alternative was that Genesis lie in it. He knew. Sephiroth knew. That was enough. Gritting his teeth, Vincent schooled his expression into accepting tenderness and crumbled into pieces inside...let himself 'pull the trigger’...no matter how painful it was...no matter how much it felt like he was taking Cerberus and putting it to his own head. The responsibility of it was so heavy...the fact that he had to play the Redeemer and the Executioner all in one...it was so heavy. 

“You're not a coward,” he whispered. “You're  _ not.  _ It's alright.” It felt like the tears were crawling up his throat, like magma in his chest...hot on his tongue but he swallowed it down and let it burn inside him because he had to be  _ strong.  _ “You're not causing me pain,” he said desperately “I don't want to pretend like I know what it's like to be in your position, but you've brought me more happiness than I could ever express in words. You've shown me that despite everything, I can be loved.” Stroking a tremulous hand through his partner's hair, he smiled. “I'm  _ grateful... _ I truly am.” When Angeal still didn't look at him, he reached over and cupped his chin, drew him up and gazed into teary eyes. “Listen to me,” he said quietly. “I'm an old man,” when Angeal opened his mouth to speak he raised an eyebrow. “And I don't care which one of us looks like an old man right now.” He swallowed and pressed their foreheads together. “A  _ young  _ man, opened the lid to my coffin and told me to live because it was  _ honorable.  _ He then proceeded to love me-an old man-despite my proclivities and my differences. He gave me so much just by saying so little, taught me how to find laughter, how to find comfort.” He exhaled desperately against the tears. “Gave me his heart...a  _ beautiful,  _ honest heart and loved me  _ just because.  _ And I would be a  _ hypocrite  _ if I told that young man to live in  _ pain  _ because my heart is  _ dishonorably  _ selfish. That's not what that young man taught me.” Trembling-shaking really-he cupped Angeal's cheeks. “I want to let you go,” he continued thickly. “And I'm telling you it's okay. Because you taught me how to  _ hold on.”  _

His palms were now wet, even though they had been damp before. And as the visage in front of him contorted in unmasked agony and anguish, Angeal rose to his feet, weeping while drawing him close; embraced him hard enough that Vincent was sure it was causing the younger man pain, and he kept repeating: “I love you…” A kiss was bestowed on his temple, a big palm cradling the back of his neck as his lover drew back just slightly so they could gaze into each other’s eyes; and it was so inexplicably  _ hard  _ to keep back tears…to be the strong one… “Your heart is not dishonorable, nor is it selfish…” The same hand brushed his hair before returning to its post. “Your heart is like an ocean...vast…beautiful… and it’s me who’s incredibly grateful… blessed really to have you as my lover…to have you by my side.” Another kiss on his forehead and those sapphire eyes were overflowing again. “I love you. I will. Always…” And his partner’s quiet voice was rough and uneven as he whispered. “More than anyone and anything.” Trembling, intermittent with shaky breaths. “I’ll miss you.” Even though it sounded like someone was wrenching Angeal’s heart out of his chest, the man in his arms crumbling to pieces in front of his very eyes…even though his lover’s hold on his cane wasn’t enough to hold him upright and the once strong physicality leaned heavily on him in their tight embrace...Vincent still stood, still held onto  _ his Angeal _ … And the grey-haired, blue-eyed younger man was  _ his _ … And a small part of him wanted to tell  _ his ‘Geal _ to stop repeating his name as he soaked the fabric covering the ex-Turk’s shoulder, wanted to be able to be selfish enough to keep his lover tethered to this world no matter what, but he couldn’t bring himself to… Even though every broken whisper of his name brought him a step closer to shedding those invisible tears that he was drowning in, that were choking him, suffocating his voice inside his chest...and Vincent wanted to  _ scream _ .

He became, abruptly, aware that they were doing this in a very public space. 

They weren’t drawing a crowd, per se, but people passing by were giving them looks that ranged between curious and confused and while he didn’t  _ hate  _ them for their curiosity there was a part of him that wanted to blast them off the face off the planet because this was  _ private.  _ It was private to the point that he wanted to do inchoate amounts of violence to anyone who looked their way-though that might have been the grief more than anything-and while he was somewhat grudgingly aware that they’d probably picked a bad spot for it, it was still nobody’s business. Carefully, aware that he couldn’t force Angeal to move quickly at this point, he nudged his lover until he looked at him and then jerked his chin in the direction of the inn. It seemed to take the younger man a moment to realize what he was ‘saying’, but when he did his expression was torn between the grief that was so deep between them and slight self-consciousness at them having done this in the middle of the town square. It took several minutes more for either of them to work up to moving and even then it was a slow process. 

He didn’t mind.

Vincent didn’t mind, and he really didn’t because he didn’t know how much longer he was going to get to spend with his lover. And it felt like something was unraveling between his fingertips. A effervescent, intricate and ethereal tapestry was falling to pieces between his palms and he wanted to gather it up and hold the tatters close but he couldn’t. Passing through the archway, out of the sunlight and into the quiet of the inn he couldn’t help but compare it to some type egress...an existential egress. A door had shut that could never be opened again and some part of his spirit was pounding against the cold...bereft aperture like all of his soul depended on it because it  _ couldn’t-!  _ But he could. He could, and he  _ would.  _ He let that facet of himself slither down...let it crumble listless and lifeless because that was all he could do...let it fall in a heap before that which was beautiful and acknowledged his surrender for what it was...no matter how painful it might be. 

In their rooms, the tech was straightening up. Vincent nodded to her out of habituality and then promptly wanted to throw her out the window because there was no way she didn’t know. Vaguely, as she looked at him with gentle, sympathetic eyes that he’d have gladly ripped out of their sockets, he acknowledged that her name was Eirene. Fitting...that one who could give peace should be named after it. Aiding Angeal in the task of getting into bed...helping him slide his shoes off of his feet and placing them next to the bedside table...there was only one question left to ask...and he didn’t know how to ask it. It was like a millstone hung around his neck...heavy on his tongue and no matter how many times he parted his lips to present it to his lover...he didn’t know how. It wasn’t a sensitive question, there was no point in trying to find sensitivity behind asking _‘when exactly do you want to die and who do you want to do it?’ _Vincent was fairly sure that if Angeal decided that he wanted any of the three of them to do it it would cripple whoever had to ‘flick the switch’...so to speak. So he sat there at the edge of the bed holding his partner’s hand...voiceless and wordless and stupid...feeling like he was slowly sinking into an endless abyss.

“Come here,” was the quiet utterance, and Angeal’s voice sounded so different...weighed down, somber and solemn...and maybe he was projecting; maybe it was his faulty perceptions again, but-...he had to push these thoughts aside-like he’d told himself-for when he was truly and utterly alone. “Come to bed, Vincent.” Again, the supplication, the plea… And the crimson-eyed ex-Turk didn’t know what his lover wanted from him because if he did, he was certain he’d give it to the younger man without hesitation. And it was really odd, really unfair for their relationship to take such a turn at such grave moments. “I want to hold you close.”

And who was he to deny the grey-haired First what he wanted, and something as simple as that...something Vincent himself wanted, would always want...even long after-! And as he was again descending into the dark ominous depths of the feelings roiling inside him, a big warm palm brushed over his hair; a trembling kiss found his temple as he sat there...again wordless, voiceless and still… The dark-haired gunman didn’t know how many times those lips had bestowed kisses on the same spot; didn’t know for how long he sat there motionless and frozen while his lover’s fingers threaded through his hair like it was the threads that weave the tapestry of the welkin at night… But it was long enough that he found himself shivering with it, swaying to and fro trying to hold himself together…because he didn’t know for how many more days, hours, minutes he could hold those hands currently encircling his waist…

“I love you…Vincent. You’re everything I could ask for…and so much more…” was an equally quiet-and yet rough with the barest hints of pain-whisper; on the verge of crumbling beyond repair like the younger man who was trying to  _ comfort him.  _ “You deserve all the happiness in the world… I-I… I can’t-I can’t  _ bear _ -I’m sorry, but I love you so,  _ so much… _ ” A proud chin dug into his shoulder, an  _ almost _ inaudible gasp before Angeal pressed their cheeks together. “We can go to the hills tomorrow…try dumbapples and also the pie…” A short laugh that sounded so wrong… “I’m sure Genesis would bring some dumbapple brandy and he’d just feel on top of the world… Would you like that?” 

His perceptions were not faulty. 

The reality that his viewpoint was different from Angeal’s didn’t mean he was wrong...it just meant that he understood the end result in a different way. The logic behind it was still concrete, the fact that Angeal had been afraid to tell him didn’t change the fact that it was something that should have been shared. Closing his eyes, Vincent acknowledged he was not going to flagellate himself for this because it wasn’t his decision. And he was not going to cry...not now, because if he cried he wouldn’t be able to go through with this at all...he would rescind his statement and it would all go to hell and he was not that kind of man. He could fall apart later. When this was...over...he could drag Sephiroth somewhere to spar hand-to-hand until it spilled out of him in a coagulated explosion but right now he was needed here. Placing a hand in his lover’s hair, the older man pressed a kiss to Angeal’s head and stroked his fingers through fine strands.

“We don’t have to do that,” he said quietly. “Angeal, please. Stop apologizing. I’m not angry with you at all.” He lifted the former General’s head. “Listen to me,” he murmured. “Do you know what would make me truly happy?” When his lover continued to look forlorn, he let a small smile play about his lips. “Let’s...talk about this, alright? And I don’t mean the logic behind it. I mean your wishes. Who you want with you, where you’d like to be...if there’s anything you’d like to do before.” When Angeal looked like he was going to protest and sighed. “I’m asking you to include me now, Angeal. Please. I  _ need  _ this, I need to know I’ve done everything I can to make you happy...comfortable. So please, just...share this with me...I think it would help a lot.” 

A shaky sigh was his answer for several long agonizing minutes until the younger man ducked his head, pressed a kiss to where his chin had been digging into his clavicle before burying his face in his jet-black mane. Another trembling issue of breath, and those hands around his waist tightened. “I’d like to do that before… _ if  _ you’d like.” Another exhale and his partner looked away, placed his temple against Vincent’s shoulder, and held onto him even harder. “I don’t feel like I have the right to ask more of any of you… I’d like all of you to be there with me when… It doesn’t matter where… Just-!” A long intermission in which they listened to each other breathe, just like the nights before. “It’s selfish to force any of you to go through it...most of all you…” A thick swallow. “Eirene… I-I…I thought... lethal injection would be a good way… Eirene, she… she could do it.”

As his lover spoke, Vincent felt a tight knot within him loosen somewhat. Because at least they were opening up to each other now. It was hard to look at it objectively, because he was human and he was weak. Nevertheless, he listened, and it did sound beautiful... anything sounded beautiful coming from Angeal, really. Worriedly, he hoped they'd be able to  _ find  _ Genesis and Sephiroth because from the looks of his son he was building himself up to somewhat monumental levels of anger. And he was flattered that it was on his behalf but it wasn't really necessary. He wished-somewhat-that he hadn't known ahead of time, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Embracing his lover more fully, he lowered his head until it almost felt like they could disappear into each other...like they could leave all this behind. 

“Alright,” he murmured. “We'll do that then.” 

* * *

Holding hands, they walked among the sea of green stalks...quiet, except for the susurrus of the meadow in the wind as it picked up for a moment before settling. The sun was shining high up, throwing their shadows in front of them as they strolled toward where they had spread their picnic blanket under the shade of the trees. Beside him, Angeal shivered a little before drawing the lapels of his coat together; and when blue eyes noticed his crimson irises tracing his movements, a tender smile curved pale lips, their intertwined fingers tightening.

It was beautiful, like the other days and nights they had shared. Like the entirety of their relationship, during times of happiness and duress, every moment of it...cherished...every day of it manifested in a precious, perfect sphere of diamond dust over the lightening velvet of his partner’s hair...hanging by the-now-grey threads.

They hadn’t spoken much… Reminisced a little about old times until it became too difficult to speak, too nostalgic…and thankfully, sometimes Genesis was there to change the subject, smoothly, and sometimes not so much; because even though the redhead tried to be cheerful on the outside, even though he tried to lighten the mood as his cerulean eyes failed to meet them most of the time, there was a haunted shroud weighing him down. The other times, they didn’t need to talk at all, shared infinitesimal yet nonetheless affectionate gestures, glances…a slight nudge, a somewhat sheepish smile, a brush of their hands along one another as they reached for the same piece of dumbapple pie. 

Angeal had told him about trivial things as they made their slow trek through the meadow: about farming, the different types of trees...unimportant things...beautiful things, because everything his lover said was beautiful.

They had shared a moment eating dumbapples. Genesis hadn’t stopped explaining all about how you handpicked the perfect apple...about the characteristics you had to look for in order to find the right one. And his son had been oddly quiet…tense, just like his lover. It was obvious that they’d had a fight or an argument, because since when Vincent had found them yesterday, everything had been exactly the same as it was now. They were giving each other the silent treatment and the tension between them was almost visible in its tangibility. Maybe he was looking at it too hard because Angeal didn’t seem to mind, or he hadn’t noticed, and that was all that mattered.

The purple fruit had a strange taste as well; somewhat savory and a bit sour, it was hard to describe. But Vincent had enjoyed it… What he’d enjoyed more, what had pulled on his heart strings was those kind pale sapphire eyes watching him take the first bite, the amount of love and affection on his partner’s face that had left him breathless inside...shivering in the face of something so vast…so all-encompassing. And the ex-Turk  _ wanted… _ but it was Angeal’s day.

Genesis had abruptly excused himself when they had eaten their Banora Whites, muttering something about having to make a call to check up on the dojo; and it was such a poorly executed lie that Vincent had wondered why his son’s lover had even bothered. Glancing worriedly at the silver-haired man, he’d watched those beryl irises follow the redhead’s retreating back, his mind seeming to be elsewhere. The gunslinger hadn’t thought he had the right to say anything, so he’d offered he and Angeal go for a walk, and here they were.

Sephiroth was leaning on his elbow, checking his comm and half-heartedly flipping through some book; though what it was, the eldest of them didn’t know. Genesis was leaning against the nearest trunk to their picnic blanket-which was littered with various assortment of foods, fruits, drinks and some dishes-sipping a drink, which was probably the same brandy the grey-haired First had told him about yesterday; observing them. 

“We’ll go whenever you’re ready.” was the quiet whisper, Angeal’s hold tightening momentarily around his fingers again before he continued. “Vincent.” And the aforementioned man couldn’t stop counting the steps, his eyes downcast as their feet took them back to their destination. A gentle tug, and his companion stopped. “ _ Look at me… _ ”

Turning, the crimson eyed man looked at his lover, looked at the familiar contours of his face and drank them in like a drowning man starving for air. The slope of his lips...still cerise...still beautiful in their fullness. Those lips could make him laugh as easily as they could make him arch with ecstacy...could make him smile as much as they could make him shudder in the throes of bliss. Angeal’s eyes were no less beautiful...no less alive and glittering despite the fact that they were overshadowed by obvious pain. Those eyes had caught him first...had drawn him into a shimmering ocean of blue and he was helpless to fall...swimming in sapphire depths as the beat of his heart thundered in his ears. His nose...Vincent-occasionally-liked to kiss his nose...just because it was there and it was convenient. And he especially liked the way the younger man breathed through it when he was frustrated...loved how his nostrils flared because it was always a good indication that he was about to say something either very clever or very cute. 

His hair...white now...of course. But he liked to sink his fingers into it nonetheless...liked to feel the silky strands of it sift between his palms like a river of spun starlight. Those hands...those large...warm...all-encompassing hands; the manner in which they held him...like he was something precious...something valuable. And Vincent couldn’t think of a more accurate word to describe how he felt when those palms were around his waist than  _ safe... _ they made him feel safe. He could take care of himself...could look after himself but those hands made him feel cared  _ for.  _ His body...Angeal’s body; always striving for good...always facing forward and trying to do what was right and not what was easy...always giving instead of taking because giving made him  _ happy.  _ And that body could drive Vincent to delirious ruin, could have pleasure spilling out of his mouth and over his tongue not only because of  _ how  _ his lover was but because of  _ who  _ he was. Angeal’s body now was tired...so tired, and despite the fact that they had shared those things with perfect honesty...it was still so hard. Tilting his head, Vincent smiled and cupped the former General’s cheek. 

“What is it?” he asked gently, tenderly.

His lover returned the gesture, both hands-soft now-cradling the side of his face as his cane fell away, as he straightened to place a kiss on Vincent’s forehead and whisper: “I love you.” And it seemed like he was pouring all his remaining strength, all his beautiful soul and his kind heart inside those words because promptly those same hands came down to grip his left forearm and his waist so his partner could lean onto him somewhat. But those pale cerulean irises were still locked onto his, the smallest hint of smiles on those familiar perfect lips-always affectionate-as he continued. “Thank you,” And those blue lakes were glittering again with happiness, crystal clear and pure. “For being who you are. For every second of your life you spent beside me. For everything.” And one of those hands rose again for good-natured fingers to dive in his hair, to card through it as those blue eyes drank in his visage just as he’d done moments ago. A kiss was bestowed on the corners of his mouth, slow...gentle...almost feather-light...and then his eyelids fluttered shut because then the gesture was repeated on the corners of his eyes. 

“It’s me who should be thanking you,” Vincent murmured, pulling back somewhat. “For giving me so much...for giving me a  _ reason  _ to live again.” He let his gaze stray to Sephiroth. “For helping me reach for something I was too frightened to reach for before.” Crimson eyes softened as they reverted their focus back to the younger man. “I love you, so much.” 

He lifted his chin somewhat, let his nose nudge his partner’s neck until Angeal acquiesced and met his lips with his own. At this point, he didn’t really care about having a potential audience...didn’t care about anything except memorizing the taste of the mouth over his. And he knew it was physical, but he’d always been somewhat physical in his mentality and he _needed _this. The ebon-haired gunslinger could feel the trembling starting again...that deep...aching feeling that felt like falling...like the adrenaline rush before a swooping drop...only it never seemed to end...just kept going and going and going. Down, down, down and the bottom was boundless...nonexistent. Desperate, he opened himself to the kiss, tried to drown himself in it...tried to give the love he had been given and he was so _frightened _it wouldn’t be enough...that Angeal wouldn’t know how much he loved him. And there was salt on his tongue...saline mixing with the taste of them and Goddess he was going to _ruin _this before it even started-! With great effort, he reigned himself in...drew back and pulled the younger man close until his nose was resting against the crook of his neck and hastily wiped his face with his free hand...took a deep breath. 

_ “Angeal,”  _ he whispered. “You’re so beautiful.” 

Those strong arms that sometimes hoisted him up effortlessly when Angeal decided to get creative with their choice of location in their times of intimacy, the same hands that used to grip the hilt of Buster Sword and raise it like the hefty blade was featherweight held onto his back in a tight embrace as his lover, too, tried to bury his face in his noir mane; tried to breathe him in like he always did. Circular, soothing, reassuring patterns against the fabric; it bunched up somewhat, and Vincent wanted to feel the familiar texture of his partner’s hands against his skin...wanted Angeal so badly…always.

“ _ My Vincent… _ ” was a tremulous whisper. “ _ My dear, beautiful Vincent. _ ”

They stayed there in each other’s arms for as long as Angeal’s legs could hold his weight...silhouetted against the horizon in an emerald sea...they stood there until Vincent’s arms couldn’t support his lover anymore...and it was oddly reminiscent of how he was trying to keep everything together...how he was trying to grasp that effervescent thread of life, to not let it slip...for the beautiful tapestry not to unravel...but the more he tried, the more it sifted through his fingers like fine stardust...faster... The gunslinger let the former General lean on his body, then, as he bent down somewhat to retrieve the cane from the ground…and even after that, during their sure yet slow trek back toward his son and his lover who were somewhat worriedly observing them. And even though the grey-haired First tried to hide it, there were those lines of pain etched into his features as the crimson-eyed man helped him sit down. A stifled hiss backended into a shaky, somehow relieved exhale because his partner didn’t have to support his own physicality; and it was all up to the ground, the earth, Gaia to support him now-the same Gaia he was-!

“Vincent and I have something to tell both of you.” Angeal uttered sternly, sapphire eyes seeking his for encouragement, for reassurance. A white-wreathed head nodded toward him, as though his lover was asking if it was the right time, the right way to go about it. 

Sephiroth’s book snapped shut immediately. Really, Vincent thought somewhat dryly, he seriously doubted he’d been reading it at all. And despite the fact that Genesis had taken so many sips of his brandy, the glass he was holding might as well have been bottomless, it was mostly full. With a surge of sincere affection, the crimson-eyed gunslinger acknowledged that neither man was stupid. They were expecting something...maybe they didn’t know what...but they were expecting something. Letting his gaze leave his son...letting them stray to his progeny’s lover, he couldn’t help the way his heart clenched at the wide-eyed blankness of the redhead’s expression. He didn’t really think Genesis knew he was doing it...knew that he was working so hard to keep himself a neutral facet that it was bleeding through. And it made him look so  _ young... _ so young and a little lost. And the older man couldn’t pretend to be the singular individual involved in this grief...couldn’t shunt them to the side because he wanted these last... _ minutes?...hours?... _ with Angeal to himself. Sinking down next to his lover, Vincent took his hand...one of those warm, comforting hands and clasped it. Nodding at his partner, he looked at their companions.

“Why don’t the two of you come a little closer,” he said quietly. 

Genesis was the first to start forward...the first to walk towards them and sit down close to his childhood friend. Sephiroth was slower to acquiesce...he locked gazes with Vincent...who narrowed his eyes and flicked them towards the scarlet-haired ex-soldier before reverting his focus. When his son relented and sank down on the grass before them...it was closer to the blue-eyed former soldier than he had been for the entirety of the morning. The silver-haired General in interim hesitated before he reached out...a pale hand glinting somewhat in the sun before he let it settle behind his redheaded lover...assumably bunching at the back of his shirt. 

Thankfully, Angeal’s focus was entirely on him, because the way Genesis flinched was almost painful to watch; the neutral expression on his features crumbled before he managed to bring it back on, however, it wasn’t the same that it had been moments before...it was almost unraveling at the seams. For a brief moment, Vincent hoped that the redhead would be able to hold himself together, until-...

-His lover’s hold around his hand tightened, bringing him to the present in which the former General was looking at the duo sitting near them. With a heavy sigh, the grey-haired First began. “Vincent and I talked about some things and I think it’s also your right to know.” Sapphire eyes were downcast. “Sephiroth, I’ve known you for around thirteen years now, and Genesis, I’ve known him for an extra seven years,” And thankfully, the latter quickly put down his glass before the drinkware could crack from how hard he’d been gripping it; the redhead decided then to twist his hand in the fabric of his pants, instead. “We haven’t always seen eye to eye, but I’ve come to love both of you as my somewhat idiotic, younger brothers.” A kind-hearted laugh. “I think you might find it unfair of me because I told Vincent first, but then again, you two knew love sooner than I did, so forgive me…” When both Sephiroth and Genesis tried to interject, his partner raised his hand. “I’m an old man now, put it under the many mistakes I’ve been making since I’ve been degrading if it’s hard to understand. But I needed to tell Vincent first before either of you.” And those kind, kind eyes gazed at him affectionately, in the same way that made the gunslinger feel like he was Angeal’s whole world as he sometimes said...in gentle moments, in moments tumbling in euphoria, in moments coming back to Gaia...coming back to  _ his  _ embrace.

“I’ve decided to stay behind here,” A gravid pause. “Permanently.” A sigh from his lover followed by a sharp intake of breath, but those fingers tightened around his; and Vincent couldn’t look anywhere other than their point of contact. “I’d like to have all of you around me when I’m going, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to acquiesce to my last wish...I don’t have the right to force you through something painful just because I’m a selfish man.” A heavy, grave silence shrouded their tight circle before Angeal’s quiet voice sliced through it, so tangible it was. “Eirene is going to do it.” Another intermission filled with foreboding because with the last word coming out of that pale mouth, it’d all be final. “When we get back.”

It seemed the whole nature had fallen quiet...as though watching what was about to unfold with bated breath. For the most part, Vincent was watching Sephiroth. Over the past year, he'd watched the younger man go from respectfully indifferent to carefully protective of his partner. There wasn't a deep well of emotion there...but the silver-haired man had obviously formed some type of attachment to Angeal despite his-frankly-terrible social ineptitude. It was in the little things...the way he dogged after the former General every so often...though not a considerable amount. The manner in which those green eyes cut worriedly to the blue-eyed First if he thought no one else was paying attention. And he knew that Sephiroth's depth of emotionalism didn't run as deep as his or even Genesis’...but the fact that they were there mattered. ...It was all that mattered. The former Commander himself was uncharacteristically silent, but his partner had opened his mouth to speak so Vincent kept his gaze on him.

“There's...a lot of history between us,” he said flatly, those viridian irises rising to look at Angeal. “Not all of it is good.” When the older man made as if to speak, Sephiroth lifted a supplicative hand, a tic in his right cheek the only sign of violently suppressed emotion. “I never apologized,” that deep baritone voice continued. “Because apologies don't bring people back ..but I  _ am  _ sorry. You were always...fair..and you were there...for all of us.” Sephiroth took a deep, seemingly steadying breath. “I respect your choice. It's not an easy thing to accept, but I respect it.” A quiet chuckle. “You were a better General than I ever was, and it has been an honor to serve in your stead.” A pause. “It's also been an honor to call you my friend.” 

Genesis quickly looked away, his head whipped to the side really as though someone had slapped him...his lower lip trembling even as he tried breathing through his nose; and it was an uncharacteristically loud thing. A lonely tear rolled down the redhead’s cheek that Vincent could see, and it was Angeal who reached toward his son’s partner only for the aforementioned man to raise his hand, trembling, as he tried to collect himself. “I’m sorry…” was the quiet and thick apology, to which his grey-haired lover quickly replied: “ _ Gen… _ ”

And if the former soldier had just wiped his face rather roughly, he was breaking apart again. “_Please…_ _Ang…_” Those azure eyes glanced upwards at the sky before darting everywhere and anywhere except for them. “It’s been how many years since I’ve called you that?” Genesis’ voice was quiet, rough, and he opened his mouth only to have to close it again; seemingly unable to settle on what he wanted to say as tears kept streaming down his face. “_You’ve been_ like _a brother_ to me…” His son’s lover crumbled. “Goddess, _Ang…_” A sniff. “I can’t-I can’t do this...I’m sorry-I-I-I love you, whatever Sephiroth said is what I want to say too…” Another longer sniff as that beautiful face contorted with too many emotions. “_I’m sorry for all those times I hurt you_, for all the times I was an asshole… I’m sorry for being such _a dick._” His partner’s childhood friend’s breath hitched. Angeal raised his hand to rub the older man’s back, to pat it gently before ruffling auburn tresses as those shoulders shook quietly. It took several minutes for the redhead to calm down, but when he did, he uttered something that surprised all three of them. 

“Will you let me be the one who puts you to sleep before Eirene does whatever she has to do?” Genesis gazed at both of them, cerulean eyes red-rimmed and still swirling with tears, face flushed red from crying. “ _ Please? _ ”

It was hard to watch. 

Hard because he was just as much a part of it but, at the same time, he wasn’t. The three of them-Angeal, Genesis, and Sephiroth-they were the triumvirate foundations of what had made Shinra so great. They’d spilled their sweat, blood, and tears on the battlefield only to be horrendously, heinously betrayed by a company that had used and used and used them until-in Angeal’s case-they could use no more. And Vincent knew it wasn’t really fair to blame Shinra as it was now for this...that it wasn’t equivalent to what was happening...but he couldn’t help it. It was a little like watching the fall of a kingdom...with three strong, determined leaders at the head. And while Genesis and Sephiroth were somewhat separate from his lover, they had still been there the longest. Like the powerful weapons they were, they had stood the trials and tests of time only to be punished...only to be torn apart when they’d only recently found a way to be together. When they’d only recently been able to look at each other as friends and not enemies. It was such a hard pill to swallow...such a bitter drink to choke down it nearly left him breathless. 

It wasn’t his call.

Looking into swimming sapphire eyes, Vincent tried to discern the motivation behind them. Because he didn’t want Genesis to choose this only to regret it later...regret his decision to participate in something that was so obviously tearing him apart. Glancing to his left, he acknowledged that he couldn’t read Sephiroth’s expression; couldn’t tell what the younger man was thinking because his expression was so still in his concrete effort to keep his emotions at bay, the gunslinger was frankly surprised he hadn’t split in half. Having gotten no relevant information from his abruptly petrified son, he turned instead to Angeal and inclined his head to indicate that it was his call. 

Angeal searched his visage for a moment longer before reaching with his hand around Vincent’s shoulder to pull him as close while keeping his hand on Genesis’ shoulder as well. A kiss was placed against his temple, before he turned to face his childhood friend.

“Gen...You don’t have to-” 

“I want to.” A pause. “If that’s okay.”

And the grey-haired First mirrored what he’d done moments ago; pulled the former First close to place a kiss in the disheveled unruly mess of fiery tresses before regarding Sephiroth. A kind smile stretched over pale lips as he snaked the hand he’d held onto Vincent with between them to reach out toward the gunslinger’s son. 

“I can still remember the first time we met on the SOLDIER floor…Who could’ve guessed we’d make so many memories together, two boys from Banora befriending Shinra’s finest. I’ve always respected you as a brilliant individual, and while I haven’t been around you as long as Genesis, I’ve seen who you’ve become over the years. My respect for you along with how much I’ve always valued your friendship has grown over time, just like you have.” When his son tentatively reached forward to hold his lover’s hand, the smile on Angeal’s face only grew kinder. “There’s nothing to apologize for, nothing to forgive.” His companion continued, eyes still glittering with the smile on his features. “You were, and  _ you are _ a fair General as well, so… likewise. It was an honor to serve under your command and in your stead. It’s always an honor to have your friendship, to have you among my friends...And thank you.” A brief pause. “For making Genesis so happy. It means so much to me.”

Whatever he’d been expecting to flash across Sephiroth’s face...agony wasn’t it.

But it did. And for a moment, Vincent panicked, because it was sourceless...or so he thought. A split second later...when the younger man’s face had rearranged itself into neutrality again...he understood. Sephiroth was never mentally cohesive with what others thought of him...he was enmired in the past and there was always going to be a part of him that had Hojo’s falsities hissing inadequacies into his ear. And he might make Genesis happy  _ now... _ but he hadn’t always. Angeal’s statement was forgiving...it cleared the board of all facets of anything the older man might have been-and he never had been, but that wasn’t the point-holding over him in terms of a grudge. Now, Sephiroth had to face the fact that  _ he  _ was the one holding onto all the ugliness inside him because he couldn’t accept the fact that he might not  _ be  _ ugly. It occurred to Vincent-abruptly-that his son and his lover had never had a conversation before this...that this was the only time either of them had ever opened up to each other in terms of past deeds to any great extent. With Angeal’s benevolence came his egress...and no there would be no time for them to build upon that. Without thinking about it, he glanced at Genesis...who was looking at his lover in a weary...knowing kind of way. And despite his grief, the redhead managed to glance over in time to catch the ex-Turk’s gaze and give him a look that said, plainly  _ ‘I’ll deal with it, later.’  _

“You make him happy.” Vincent startled and realized that Sephiroth was now looking at him. “You didn’t have to, but you do...I’m never going to forget that.” Retrieving his hand, the silver-haired man sat back, rubbing his arms. Moonlight colored locks swung forward to obscure features that were so much like his own before Sephiroth spoke again. “You’re relieved of duty, Soldier,” he continued hoarsely. Slim, pale fingers fumbled in a pocket before retrieving something small and shiny. Angeal’s eyes widened at the sight of it...and he seemed about to protest before the younger man continued. “I meant to give this to you when the reconstruction effort was complete, you put so much thought behind it...after all.” Ivory digits opened to reveal a red and black ribbon with a silver-lined gold star. “We designed these...if you remember...about a year before everything…” A pause and Sephiroth’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Before everything happened. I don’t think we ever gave one out.” Green eyes turned serious. “The Star of Service is a representation of the bravery, the determination and the honor a Soldier has demonstrated through great deeds and self-sacrifice in the face of the greater good. As General, it is an honor to present this to you.” And despite the fact that Angeal’s palm was facing downwards, the younger man picked it up and flipped it over...pressed the aforementioned item into it-though gently-and then held on. “Thank you for your service.” 

Holding on to his son’s hand, Angeal gazed at the silver-haired General in interim before nodding his head; in the same manner he always did for those whom he held great respect for. Then, he curtly shook the hand of the youngest of them. “Thank you, sir.” A kind yet solemn small smile. “It’s an honor.” A brief chuckle. “I’d rise up and salute you, but I think that’d be,” A gesture with his other hand. “ _ A bit  _ too much.”

They didn’t stay much longer after that, and it was understood because all four of them needed some time to deal with this on their own; either alone in their own respective worlds or together, partner-to-partner, lover-to-lover. 

Sitting in the pickup, all four of them were quiet on their way back to the inn. Sephiroth was driving with Genesis in the front while he and Angeal occupied the back; his lover’s grey-wreathed head was leaning on his shoulder and they were holding hands like all those times Vincent accompanied the former General to the slums to oversee the progress of renovations. 

Upon their arrival, his son’s lover arranged for their lunch to be brought up to Vincent and his partner’s room. And again, it was understood, because of course the redhead and his progeny would want to spend as much time with the grey-haired First as they could. They mostly didn’t talk, all of them content to cherish the comfortable, companionable silence they all shared together...finally, after going through all they had…cherish the pleasure of one another’s company even though in his lover’s case it was ephemeral...even though Vincent felt there was a clock on top his head ticking second after second, and they kept getting closer to the inevitable.

It was-after sharing the idea with his partner-his suggestion that they do it at night, atop another hill overlooking the town, surrounded by the perfect overhanging arch of pale trunks dotted with green leaves and ripe Banora Whites. His son and his lover had taken their leave afterwards to prepare for their camping trip of sorts, and to give the two of them some privacy.

Thinking back on their last hours...it was like he was looking through a misted glass, the edges of his memories blurring and yet everything was so vivid it felt like a lucid dream. Of how Vincent sat Angeal down, placed a towel around his pale neck as he lathered shaving cream over the sharp line of his partner's jaw and cheeks...how those azure eyes gazed at him, their depths swirling with so many emotions the gunslinger sometimes just couldn’t hold their eye contact anymore and had to look away, to focus on the task at hand… Of how when his job was done, the grey-haired former soldier cradled his hands, and kissed the tip of his fingers one by one, brushed soft lips against the center of his palms and against the undersides of his wrists.

He lay down beside him because he wanted to...because the nearness was a comforting thing and he wanted to memorize his lover’s voice...the soft thump of his heartbeat. And despite the overall smell of shaving cream...there was still that musky undertone that was Angeal. Levering himself upward on one elbow, Vincent leaned over to press his nose against the hollow of the younger man’s throat. It wasn’t a desirous gesture...no. Rather, it was something more intimate than that...an acknowledgement of who the individual before him was. And when his lips followed his nose it was equally chaste...because he wanted to touch in order to memorize...not to arouse. Dimly, he was aware that his bandanna had fallen off; that the slide of his hair over his partner’s chest had jostled it loose and they were now drowning in a river of onyx but he didn’t care. What mattered now was the nearness...the sense of togetherness that he would never have again. 

It  _ hurt.  _

It hurt like fire but it was also somehow bittersweet because in the end...it was a form of peace. Blinking, furrowing his brow as he absentmindedly stroked Angeal’s hair...he felt his lips contort into a frown against his lover’s skin. He didn’t know if it would be  _ his  _ peace...but at least it was peace. And he wasn’t used to being self-sacrificing. He’d chosen himself over Sephiroth...over Lucrecia and the idea that he wasn’t doing so now was almost enough to drive him into a panic. But at the same time he  _ wanted  _ this for Angeal because he deserved it. No one deserved to live in so much pain. Exhaling, he kissed the younger man’s temple before moving backwards and making a study of his face.

“I love you,” he murmured. “I know I’ve said it a lot...but I’m not going to stop saying it.” 

“And I, you.” And the love they both spoke of was reflected in every facet of his lover’s features; from his soft affectionate eyes, to the way those trembling fingers rose hesitatingly, reverently to dive in the waterfall of his hair...to how those still-dark lashes fluttered against-almost translucently-pale cheekbones as Angeal’s lips sought his. Ephemeral...chaste, and the ache it filled him with was bittersweet agony… There was the issue of breath against his skin as that white-wreathed head pulled back slightly, just enough for their eyes to lock again; and again, that kind, quiet voice rang out between them. “I love you too… so,  _ so much _ .”

They spent their time memorizing each other again, and how many times it had been, Vincent didn’t know, he’d simply lost count… Fingertips, eyes; cerulean and crimson… The gunslinger didn’t know how many times he inhaled the scent that was Angeal’s on that day…didn’t know how many times the grey-haired former General looked at him like he had their first time together. And the older man could see in those irises how much his partner  _ ached _ to echo the words he’d said to him in that room after their incident with Healing Rain; could hear the unuttered _ ‘Evergreen’ _ rolling on his lover tongue over and over again, in the quiet of their room which was only broken by the sound of their breaths...sharing the same inhalations and exhalations. And a hopeless part of him wished he could die from carbon-dioxide poisoning, wanted to time his intakes of air to the egresses of his companion’s…

They ended up getting ready late, but no one came knocking on their door.

Vincent helped Angeal into his First Class Soldier attire, and the former General fixed the ribbon Sephiroth had given him on his chest; forewent his cane, though they both knew Eirene, his son, or his lover’s would be there to help him should they need it. Even though they were going to be driving for most of the way.

Leaving the inn, Sephiroth told them that Genesis had moved there ahead of all three of them; headed over with Eirene.

Sitting down in the pickup after Angeal was inexplicably harder than he’d fathomed. He received the distinct sensation that by doing so he was taking a part of himself that was going to be left behind when they did what they needed to do. The empty...cold feeling intensified in him until it felt like it was rattling his teeth…‘till he felt like he was a being made of fall leaves hanging from bereft branches waiting to be snatched away by the wind. He supported Angeal but at the same time he was clutching him...like a frightened child and it had been so  _ long  _ since he’d held something to him with such juvenile covetousness. The Turk in him insisted that he categorize it...compartmentalize it because that was what he was trained to do. But his mind might as well have been the most disorganized file room in the world...everything was spilling over...synapses spilling jumbled thoughts like regurgitated mentality and he couldn’t gather it...could only stare ahead with wide crimson eyes with the distinct sensation he was riding into ruin. 

His mind kept flashing back to the places he would need to go without Angeal...of walking into Administration and knowing the younger man wouldn’t be there to greet him. Of taking his coffee alone in the morning...staring across the kitchen counter at empty space. Of looking through the city’s almost-finished reconstruction processes with no one to guide his hand. Of sitting in his armchair in the evening and having no one to turn to to talk about the news...of walking the corridors of HQ and knowing that no matter where he looked...it would be empty. And who was going to take care of the plants?! And it was all because of the cells...the very cells that were saving him were  _ killing  _ his partner and now they were  _ inside  _ him-! It made him want to shed his skin...made him want to crawl out of himself...to scream, rip himself to shreds...to let Chaos take over but Chaos was  _ gone.  _ And now Angeal was going to be gone. He was going to wake up in the morning and look over to empty sheets...to an empty bed...an empty pillow...an empty apartment... _ an empty life…. _

The truck stopped. 

And the realization hit him like a freight train. Because they were driving his partner to his death place, he was going to walk his lover to his  _ death _ . They were going to  _ kill _ Angeal, and he wanted to take Cerberus out of its holster and kill anyone who dared touch his partner… _ irrational _ , a voice screamed in his head, and he nearly jolted in his seat were it not for all his years in the Turks. Getting out of the car and putting one foot ahead of the other, his lover hung onto his forearm as they trudged slowly toward where Genesis and Eirene were waiting for them...and it was even more excruciating. 

There was no tent, and a part of him whispered insidiously that it was obvious because this was no camping trip. They were there for one purpose, and only that.

His son’s lover looked horrible. Vincent didn’t think he’d ever put horrible and Genesis in the same sentence but what he was greeting his eyes made him wonder how awful he himself must look on the outside. And that thought fueled him to try to pull his act together...for the time being.

The same blanket from their picnic was spread on the ground but there was nothing on it...everything was barren…just like how his life was going to be once this was all over. The beauty of the scenery surrounding them didn’t even seem insignificant to his eyes...it was nonexistent… Even the stars that twinkled above their head, the effervescent splatter of silvery paint against the indigo canvas of the welkin left by the brush of the creation-as much as he’d been in awe of them that night near the fountain-they were now nothing but cold, cruel, and distant celestial bodies bearing witness to how he was going to fall to ruin.

Helping his lover sit down, Genesis’ red-rimmed eyes glanced between him and Sephiroth before the gunslinger’s arm was tugged down by partner, and Vincent, too, sat down beside him, holding Angeal’s big, warm palm in his hand. And those pale sapphire eyes weren’t looking at anyone or anything but him… The dark-haired gunman was vaguely aware of his son’s lover sitting behind the former General’s back while his progeny sat on the other side of their comrade, opposite of where he was sitting. 

Angeal curled the fingers of the eldest of them to place a kiss upon his knuckles, held them there against his lips even as he whispered. “I just want to keep on loving you…”

He knew-instinctively-that his lover couldn’t do this in peace if he couldn’t get his act together. Pulling what felt like every scrap of his existence off of the ground, Vincent returned the gesture...let his mouth linger even as it felt like his soul was fleeing...and maybe it was. And so he let himself think about the good times;  _ forced  _ himself to really. Thought about all the happiness they had shared...all the laughter just so he could get a smile to settle itself on his visage. Something anxious in his partner seemed to relent then...something he was holding onto appeared to unravel with his ability to curl his lips upward. Sephiroth was still stiff, still somewhat taciturn and a glance over revealed that he was so rigid he would be surprised if he broke into pieces should someone cruel-hearted enough push him over. The youngest of them didn’t touch...but he remained...and that spoke volumes. Eirene was doing something in the background; there was the sound of metal clinking together...the sluice of something liquid but he didn’t pay attention to it...kept his gaze focused on the man before him.

“You will,” Vincent whispered back. “You do, and you will.” Taking their clasped hands...he lifted them...placed them over his heart. “Here,” he continued gently before raising them to his head. “Here.” Upwards...further...to the stars. “....And there.” A gesture, all around them. “Everywhere.” 

Something in Sephiroth’s stance changed then...something became desperate and apparent. And those green eyes were so wide in that expressionless face...so agonized that Vincent was somewhat concerned that having him there was a bad idea. Because they had all seen death...but voluntary death was a different thing. And of course it wouldn’t make sense to the younger man, because death was something taken...not something  _ given.  _ And he was somewhat relieved when his son shifted upward somewhat...when he drew a little more level with Angeal’s head so he could press against Genesis...even if it was only minimally because he at least could draw comfort from that.

Slowly and keeping a respective distance, Eirene sat down, and there was the glint of something in her hand in the corner of his peripheral vision. When she spoke, it was with her kind and understanding voice, almost quiet and inaudible as if she didn’t want to intrude. “Whenever you’re ready.” And whom she was talking to, Vincent wasn’t sure. Just that Angeal’s blue, blue eyes sought his, returned their joint hands to where his heart was beating before his partner looked at his redheaded former comrade over his shoulder and nodded solemnly, slowly.

Genesis’ face was a mask of focus, and before the magic could take effect, again there was the same faltering murmur of ‘I love you…’ just like all those times Angeal whispered it before sleep could overtake him. His son’s partner didn’t stop even as the heart beating in Angeal’s chest slowed to a steady rhythm; the weary lines that didn’t seem to want to go away from his kindly face easing as he dreamt...as he drifted off and away from him. Again there was the same metallic glint, and before the dark-haired gunslinger could move, could open his mouth to stop whatever it was that Eirene was doing, the tip of the needle had breached the skin and vein alike...a delicate finger depressing the syringe all the way down. And just as quickly as she’d come, she was gone...like a phantasm who was the harbinger of death...in a faint rustle of clothes...to give them privacy.

It didn’t take long at all for it to take effect. There was a momentary increase in his lover’s breathing, but that was nothing compared to how his heart started palpitating faster and faster...like it was attempting to break free from the cage of his chest. The redhead’s hands on Angeal’s shoulders were almost trembling from how hard he was trying, but Vincent couldn’t focus on that. He couldn’t focus on his son, who was abruptly scrambling away...who apparently-for once-could not conscience death. Faster, faster... like the beat of a butterfly wing and he tried to envision Angeal's soul like a glowing... winged arthropod in flight... pinions spread majestically against the heavens. Faster, and it felt like his own heartbeat was thrumming with it...like dualized drumbeats…joined as they always had been, forever and ever…Soaring over the cosmos with the stars as their backdrop…. breathless, free,  _ whole... _

...And then it stopped. 

Vincent froze.

Something broke inside of him. Something pure and simple and sweet like the individual that was no longer with them. And he felt something brush across his cheek for a moment... something soft and warm and familiar but when Vincent whipped his head around to look at it... nothing was there. He was sitting on a hill covered in starlight with the husk of the man he had loved. And warmth...there was still warmth...he felt himself crumple, pressed his forehead into an empty chest and bunched trembling fingers in thick fabric. His mind was a mantra of  _ 'no, no, no, no’  _ and it wouldn't  _ stop-!  _ Because there would be no more talks of honor, no sapphire glances directed at him in that considering way...no big, warm hands stroking his hair or cupping his cheek. No deep, comforting voice accompanied by the glimmer of the Buster Sword...no sleepy mornings or quiet evenings in careful, caring arms.

And Vincent... Vincent was  _ shattering.  _

The body beneath his head shifted and he stumbled backwards...moved away. Something fluttered in his chest for a moment, because maybe this was just a very vivid nightmare...something brought forth from the deepest darkest, dregs of his psyche because Angeal meant just so much to him that it wasn’t measurable in any way, shape or form… But glancing up, his partner’s unresponsive face was all that met his blurring vision...paler than ever...slowly falling into the lap of someone- _ who? _ -and then his irises fell on a thatch of red, a proud back bowing in front of his wide crimson eyes because of the words now coming out of someone else’s- _ Genesis’ _ -mouth.

“_Ang…_” A sniff. “_Ang… wake up..._” A pained whimper, another sniff, and another followed by a series of sharp inhales and exhales. “_Ang!_ _Wake-!_” And there was no name for the sound his son’s lover was making as he completely doubled over Vincent’s Angeal, his auburn head just shy of where Vincent’s had been only moments ago…

It didn’t help him at all...It only made him crumble even further, felt every single piece of his personality fall onto the existential ground only for each small facet to shatter to another million pieces...and he didn’t know how to deal with this...wished he had those golden-plated talons so he could reach with them and carve out his own heart, because this  _ pain _ ,  _ this agony _ ...was eating him alive...was making him choke on every single ingress and egress of air...and he wanted to call Angeal just like Genesis had done, but found out he’d lost his voice… Found himself joining the redhead in the ruin that was unraveling around them. And the very sky felt like it was falling apart around their ears...and how much he wished it did…

Returning his head to that same empty chest that once housed his partner’s  _ beating _ heart-the heart Angeal had given to him, for him to reside in, to dive deep and feel safe, feel cared for-Vincent didn’t know how many more times he’d have to crumble for it to be enough… There was a rustle of clothes, something tearing, the shift of air, and something warm enveloped his back, something soft...and his first thought was  _ Angeal? _ But there was only a  _ stygian _ wing enveloping him as Genesis’ overflowing cerulean eyes stared back at his lost crimson ones...and in front of him, there wasn’t a twenty-seven-year-old man, but a lost, lonely kid.

In the end ..it was Sephiroth who delivered. 

Because Vincent was useless in terms of proffering comfort...was entirely numb to anything he could provide. He was empty... bereft and soulless. Another movement; footsteps sure but circumspect. The rustle of fabric and a blanket descended over the body of his lover... neatly, so as not to dishevel or disturb. Long fingers tucked it under that proud chin...turned it down so it was almost as if Angeal was only sleeping...and he had been... _ he had been... _ just moments ago he’d  _ just been sleeping. _ Gentle hands-deceptively gentle hands-reached out as his son knelt next to him...all emerald eyes... moonlight-colored hair and stoicism. Pale digits curved over the outer edge of a pinion in acknowledgement of his redheaded lover...swept gently through tufty down before Sephiroth put a comforting hand on his sire’s shoulder. It wasn't exactly an invitation for physical contact, but he hung on like he was drowning... gripped the underside of strong forearms and lowered his head even as he nearly bit through his lip. And it was a testament to the silver-haired First's ability to be objective...his alien separation from so much that  _ he _ could withhold or offer comfort. And he didn't know if it was because the younger man felt like he had to or if he  _ wanted  _ to. 

It wasn’t an embrace...not really.

An embrace would likely have been too much for both of them; but the clasp of hands over forearms...the bowed heads...it was enough. It was comfort on a scale that wasn’t invasive, that didn’t take away from the truth of what had occurred. And he wanted to be angry that Sephiroth had chosen not to stay for the occurrence of passage...but at the same time he acknowledged that it was a testament to how much he’d cared about Angeal that he couldn’t watch him die. And maybe it was better...maybe it was better that the silver-haired man’s last memories of his lover were that of him sleeping peacefully. At the thought of it, Vincent shuddered, shuddered again and it felt like the world had dropped out from under him...that he was spinning away into a bottomless nothingness. The only thing that kept him grounded was the hold the younger man had on him. 

“You did everything you could,” Sephiroth said quietly. “Both of you did.” 

“So did you,” Genesis whispered hoarsely, quietly. “Don’t,” And the onyx pinion of his son’s lover’s wing folded closer around the two of them as the redhead huddled closer. Out of the corner of his eyes Vincent could see the glint of a pale hand as it came to rest against his son’s frame-where, he couldn’t see-and then another set of digits, barely there but still, closed around his forearm where it was holding onto Sephiroth’s. “Don’t hold it in, it’s okay to be sad.”

Vincent was fairly sure the younger man was talking to Sephiroth because he was already a wreck. And he remembered the words from when they'd arrived at his son's apartment to find him covered in blood. Sephiroth-apparently-did too because he went so pale for a minute the gunslinger was afraid he was going to faint. They were echoes of a phantasm...a dark-haired phantasm who-at the time-had been healthy. Who at the time was so unhappy but trying so hard to persevere for the sake of others. Who looked at him, despite his past choices and didn’t judge him...despite the fact that they hadn’t been in a relationship at the time. And despite the fact that he was surrounded by two people who had known his lover longer than he had he was  _ lonely... _ he was so lonely. Closing his eyes...he called on the memories of the arms that had held him not even a few hours before...the soft breath...the gentle blue in those eyes. The recollections were there, but they were now accompanied with a pain that felt like it was lancing through his chest in a red-hot ache every time he dredged them up. 

_ “How do you know...the exact words...that make me feel better?” _

Vincent felt himself sink further...felt his head bow until it was resting against Sephiroth’s shoulder and once the tears started he couldn’t stop them. Was helpless against that hot salinity that felt like it was burning his cheeks. He didn't cry out loud...he merely let himself shake with soundless sobs that seemed to get wrenched from a dark, ugly place as those hands continued to grasp his...as his son's silence was both a comfort and a repellent because part of him wanted to grieve  _ alone.  _

“I'm sorry,” Sephiroth said, and he sounded a bit hysterical, a bit bewildered, like he didn't know what to do. 

“Sephiroth.” It was Genesis’ voice, and it was somehow cautious, hesitant. And dimly, Vincent was aware that probably they were doing the same thing he and Angeal did... _ used to do _ … Meaningful glances, flicks of brilliant irises, talking without talking, until the hands holding him tethered to this world tensed slightly. 

“Vincent.” And the urge to flinch when his son’s lover’s hands curled around his bicep was so strong because those were the same hands that had put his partner to sleep; those were the hands that had gripped held onto those broad shoulders Angeal used to roll and squeeze whenever he got rid of those black pauldrons. It seemed that everything in his world was now suddenly holding facets of the loved one he’d lost...as though his lover was a ribbon of color tracing everywhere and anywhere he laid his eyes on; and suddenly those ribbons were cut, hanging loosely, lifelessly… And if he hadn’t already soaked his son’s shirt, he was now, because it reminded him of how his partner’s wing had manifested...threads of ether suddenly becoming an effervescent tufty plumage, not at all unlike the one currently enveloping him in an strange embrace, and yet so wholly different… How white it had been, just like those now-starlight-spun tresses…dulling…like stars dying in distant places...so far out of reach...

“Vincent.” A nudge upwards. 

Followed by another as his progeny’s strong arms, too, attempted to gently but inexorably haul him to his feet. 

“ _ Dad? _ ”

They were trying to move him away. The sound that rose from Vincent’s throat was strangled and disbelieving. Because he couldn’t  _ go.  _ He just  _ couldn’t go.  _ If he left it was like he was affirming what had happened; he would be walking away from this...from this quiet...gentle hill filled with stars and his lover would be staying. Angeal would stay here and he would have to go. The idea of it made him freeze up...left him naked and terrified and lifeless because it wasn’t like he could stay here forever. The wind might blow across the hilltops but his lover wasn’t there.  _ He wasn’t there.  _ But he didn’t want to go. Some part of him was desperate to stay because he didn’t know how he was going to go on after this...didn’t know how he was going to  _ live.  _ Angeal had given him a reason to live but then he’d become his entire world. He’d spent the past few months building a life with him and he didn’t know how to do that without him...didn’t know how to be someone without him-

_ “I can’t-!”  _ he gasped. “I can’t go, I  _ can’t-!”  _

“-You can,” Sephiroth’s voice was firm but somewhat unsteady, as if the younger man was holding on to his self-control by the thinnest of threads. “He would want you to.” 

And that was so unfair...such an unfair thing to say. Because it was true but that didn’t make it hurt any less...didn’t make the pain of it go away. But Angeal would have wanted him to live, wouldn’t have wanted him to be stuck here...wouldn’t want him to fight so hard to keep his death so close. Sitting up, Vincent was aware of how pale he was...of the lightheaded...horrified sensation of utter emptiness that was etched across his features. Sephiroth met his gaze and something in it made him blanch...made him shrink away somewhat before the silver-haired First appeared to steel himself…looked over his shoulder at his lover who had moved back as well and then there was an arm looping under him...dragging him upwards...and Angeal was still there. Asleep...covered…features peaceful and somnolent and sweet and gentle as they had always been and the vociferation that rose within him was ugly and animal and twisted because  _ he did not have peace.  _ He’d  _ had  _ peace. In his coffin. And if he hadn’t  _ left  _ his coffin he wouldn’t be dealing with this. But he also wouldn’t have met the individual whose shell was lying before them...wouldn’t have known how those lips could smile, how they could laugh.

His knees nearly gave out. 

He couldn’t look anywhere but there...couldn’t rip his eyes away now that he was looking and the sadness was somewhat replaced by rage. By resentment. Because now he had to go...he had to go and weather this and Angeal didn’t. 

“Damn you,” he whispered. 

Sephiroth stiffened and shot him an alarmed glance and he wanted to curse him too but he refrained...shoved him away and stumbled a few feet before bringing a trembling hand up to his mouth...knuckles trembling against his lips as he swayed. Vitriol had no place here...and he understood-on a clinical level-why he was feeling it but that didn’t tone it down or make it any easier to bear. And his son was not in a mental state to deal with him like this...would possibly never be in a good mental state and he had to  _ stop.  _ Another step and this time he couldn’t support himself, nearly fell only to be caught. 

It was Genesis who caught him, strangely enough. Sephiroth had moved forward to do it, but his son’s lover seemed to have been more agile on his feet… and Vincent wanted to shove the redhead away too, just as he’d shoved his son. He’d come to admire and respect the former Commander, cared for him even, but it all paled in comparison to what he was feeling now. And he didn’t want to look at either of the younger men, or he might curse them as well, because since when did they talk like he and Angeal did? And again his eyes fell on the features that should have been youthful because this wasn’t how men in their late twenties looked like… This wasn’t  _ fair _ …this wasn’t fair for someone who had never been anything but  _ fair _ , kind-hearted, so many good things all at once it was almost unbelievable… And he wanted to scream profanities and obscenities at everything and everyone because it just wasn’t  _ fair  _ that he looked younger than than his lover did, that he had the exact same cells that had been making the former General sick, that the man currently holding him up had them as well, and they all lived and Angeal didn’t… And he was being inexorably turned around, and he didn’t want to...wanted to tackle the redhead then and there, to squabble with him...but thankfully or unfortunately he was frozen. 

“Vincent, Sephiroth’s right…” Another try, as Genesis continued. “Let’s go. Please.”

Again he wrenched himself away and this time he used that momentum to keep going. Wheeled about and forced one foot in front of the other to move towards the truck.  _ “...I love you.”  _ Step after step, and it was a little bit like putting himself into a blender. Like taking a lash to himself and flaying himself open until his existentiality was bleeding all over the floors of his psyche.  _ “...I miss you.” _ A moan bubbled up in his throat but he kept going and it felt like his vision was tunneling in on himself…’till the only thing he could see was the grass in front of him...the stars above him. A kaleidoscope...torrid and twisting, and he couldn’t do this...he couldn’t…  _ “I wish I could tell you it was okay…”  _ It wasn’t okay.  _ It wasn’t okay.  _ And he’d spent so much time pretending to be  _ ‘okay’  _ that now that he didn’t have someone around to be  _ ‘okay’  _ for he was effectively imploding from the inside out. It was-if possible-worse that he was entirely aware of it...that he’d prepared himself for this but he was crumbling under the weight of it anyway. “... _ I want you to know how utterly and truly happy I am when I’m with you…”  _ He collided somewhat with the tailgate. Not hard but enough that it was loud to his ears. Someone made a pained noise...like the sight of it was  _ killing  _ them but he couldn’t focus on it because this was killing him. He hadn’t expected it to be so awful...so painful. Hadn’t expected to feel like he was turning into liquid and sloughing down a black, endless drain.  _ “I was only able to make this all happen because you were there with me, beside me… and when I’m gone.”  _

He was in the truck. 

Specifically, he was in the passenger’s seat slumped against the dashboard and it was cold on his forehead. Vincent swallowed, swallowed again and stared at the dark industrial PVC that made up the surface before him. Sephiroth and Genesis were talking...quietly and urgently and he probably could have picked up what they were saying if he tried but he couldn’t. Wrapping his arms around himself the older man tried to quell the sense of freezing emptiness that was soaring through his veins like a black necrosis...tried to gather himself because he was supposed to be the  _ mature  _ one. Instead, he felt like he had when he’d been starting his career with the Turks and Veld had come in to tell him his father had died. Angeal wasn’t his father but he was the only person who had come close to the level of caring he’d received from his sire...the level of patient gentleness. And Grimoire wasn’t always there but when he was there, he made time for him...made him feel important. Family was different from romanticism but he’d considered Angeal family for a long time. He was the other half of his heart. The driver’s side door opened but he didn’t look up to see who it was...kept his head against the dash and gritted his teeth. 

Something warm and yet featherweight was draped over his shoulders, but his companion-whoever it was-didn’t speak, just started the engine. There was the swish of kevlar over plastic- _ seat belt _ -a click as it was inserted into the lock- _ definitely seat belt _ -and they started moving. The road was uneven, and after the first bump that made his forehead collide with the dash, a hand prevented it from hitting it again as their pickup righted itself on the path. He was, again, inexorably pushed backwards, their car slowing down as the driver- _ Genesis _ -gently but relentlessly pushed him back into the passenger seat. The redhead was keeping his eyes on the road, the window rolled all the way down on his side which made Vincent shiver… He didn’t know how much of it was because he’d now tumbled past the event horizon of the black hole that had opened up inside him or because he was cold… And he  _ was _ cold, freezing even… because it seemed like Shiva had reached inside where his heart used to beat and planted a snowflake there that was slowly but surely spreading and encompassing everything within him until his entire existence turned into a glacier. Pulling the sweatshirt close around him, the ebon-haired gunman realized that it was his son’s, smelled like the younger man even...and that made him crumble even further...because for the past few days Sephiroth had been giving him again and again, and it wasn’t at all like his progeny to be so generous, and yet…

There was a rustle of clothes toward his right, the redhead rummaging in his pockets looking for something, and a shivering dying part of him was afraid because the last time the younger man’s lover had been doing that was to give his partner- _ his  _ ** _deceased_ ** _ partner _ -a star of service. And the last time Genesis had said anything to him was to give him the horrible news of what they had just  _ ‘accomplished’-! _ But it was only a somewhat crumpled pack of cigarettes which was proffered to him after the former Commander took one out for himself and lighted it. Nothing spoken, just gestures. He was tempted simply because it was something Angeal wouldn't have approved of. And right now he was sad and angry slurred all together at once. If there was anything he wanted to do right now it would probably involve copious amounts of alcohol but he knew instinctively that if he started drinking he wouldn't stop. He would likely poison himself and he realized-with a kind of morbid humor-that there was a part of him that wasn't adverse to the idea. Still, Angeal wouldn't want it and despite the fact that a part of him insisted he didn't  _ have _ to care anymore, he did. Shaking his head in the negative, the crimson-eyed ex-Turk fixed his gaze on the road and didn't speak. 

He'd never felt so alone before.

Staring out at the landscape before them Vincent acknowledged that the world seemed empty now. With Angeal it had felt like the sky was the limit...like anything was possible. Now he felt like a marble rattling about in a fishbowl...all dense glass and hard surfaces pressed up to a curvature of translucence. Falling, falling, falling and the harder he tried to catch himself the further he was. Like looking up at the world from a dark well; at that round pinpoint of sky so far away... submerged in cold water and icy walls and the  _ 'drip, drip, drip’  _ that was his cognizance floating beyond. They pulled up to the inn and he hastened to get out, to go to their- _ his _ -rooms alone... practically fell on the gravel trying to seek solidarity...an abyss. 

Genesis didn’t seem to want to leave him alone, and for a cruel moment Vincent wondered whether the redhead was clinging to him because he was trying to make him feel miserable since he was the person who had spent such a long amount of time with his- _ dead _ -lover or because the former Commander was trying to wring out of him whatever remained of Angeal… Maybe it wasn’t any of those things...but he couldn’t bring himself to care because they had to continue further ahead down the corridor. He wanted to look with wide crimson eyes at the younger man and say  _ ‘Genesis, where are you taking me?’ _ because his son’s lover was trying to manhandle him into their own rooms and- _ no, no, no, no _ -... Maybe shoving and trying to break free from the hand that wasn’t really holding his bicep at all wasn’t a good idea, because promptly he felt like he didn’t have any energy left to take those steps to get himself to their- _ his _ -rooms; wanted to drop to the ground because the corridor seemed to drag on and on for miles...like some tunnel but at the end of it wasn’t any light, no matter how much he wished for it to be… it was dark, bleak, cold, and empty… and he’d be alone… _ all alone _ ...

Dimly he felt his lips turn downwards, hot pinpricks started burning in his eyes; and he wanted to call Angeal...because he was  _ exhausted  _ just like when Chaos had decided to leave him behind...and even more so...and as gravity shifted and he fell down, he wished that he could sink through the floor...wanted those kind warm hands around him…but they weren’t there, they’d  _ never  _ be there anymore…

_ ‘Geal, I’m so cold. _

The name cluttered up his throat like shards of ice, and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, and maybe it wasn’t a bad idea at all that he’d choke-!

“ _ -cent! _ ” 

Someone was shaking him, and as the blurring image of his son’s lover’s face greeted his crimson eyes, only then he realized that he’d fallen in the middle of the corridor and was  _ shattering again… _

“I’m sorry, we’re just worried about you…” A sigh, and those cerulean irises-that were somewhat like Angeal’s and yet not at all-were downcast. “You’re tired, let me-let  _ us _ help…” A pause, and there was a quiet whisper. “You’d be helping me and Sephiroth as well.”

Sephiroth.

The older man felt his breath catch at the mention of his son. Briefly, his mind flashed back to how frightened the younger man had looked when they’d left him on the hilltop. How lost and worried and alone...like he was going to come back and Vincent wasn’t going to be there. And Sephiroth had been alone so much longer than him...he’d been that little boy in an empty cell...that crying baby in a cold...hard crib with no one to hold him...no one to offer him comfort. And here he was falling apart because of the life  _ he’d  _ chosen. Vincent had chosen to be alone for a long time, and he was  _ fortunate  _ enough that someone had drawn him out of that self-imposed isolation to show him love. As much as Angeal’s love had been a gift, it had also been a privilege. For someone so young to give himself to someone so much older who’d made so many poor choices...it still bewildered him. Bowing his head...feeling the moisture in his eyes drip out onto the carpet Vincent realized that Sephiroth had been trying  _ so hard.  _ For the younger man to touch him, to offer physical comfort...however brief, it was a monumental gesture. And he was  _ ashamed  _ but he was also  _ devastated  _ and the two emotions combined made him feel  _ worthless _ . 

_ “My beautiful Vincent…” _

He choked on the sob that rolled out of him, gritted his teeth against it but it came out anyway...pulled his brows together and furrowed them in an expression of agony. 

“Please,” he muttered. “Can you-” his breath hitched. “Can you get me his-” Vincent squeezed his eyes shut. “-His shirt” he choked out. “The blue one,” his voice broke. “It's-it's over the back of the chair...the armchair, he put it there-” Talking was a futile effort. “- _ Please.  _ I'll stay here, I won't go anywhere.”

Something flickered over Genesis’ face, cerise lips pressed together in a tight line as the younger man nodded jerkily, before standing up and almost sprinting toward their- _ his,  _ ** _his_ ** _ ,  _ ** _his_ ** _ , alone _ -rooms. There was a jingle of keys, the creak of a hinge, and really he didn’t need to tell his son’s partner that he wasn’t going anywhere; he didn’t have any energy left...and to go  _ where…?  _ Did it make any differences how his surroundings looked like when there was no Angeal beside him…? He knew without hesitation that going to the places they had been together would destroy him...because there would still be the lingering after-images of his lover wherever he’d turn his eyes to...that certainly ruled out the de facto capital of Shinra, the HQ _ … How was he going to go back to their house…and the plants...they’d wither…  _ just like him… 

It seemed to take the former Commander forever, and maybe it didn’t really, but time didn’t matter now… He had plenty of time… plenty of time to spend  _ alone. _

When his- _ dead _ -lover’s childhood friend came back, he was holding the shirt he’d requested. There was something about the way he was holding it, but Vincent couldn’t focus on that because he was trying to fight back recollection after recollection of all the times it had hugged his partner’s strong physicality. The fabric sliding across his palms nearly broke him. Because it was Angeal's favorite shirt...why he'd never know because he'd never asked...and he  _ should  _ have. There were so many things he should have asked about that he couldn’t now. But Genesis was looking increasingly overwrought and he couldn’t keep doing this to the people around him. It wasn’t fair to them. Briefly, he entertained the idea of death. Because if it was this bad now, when denial still hadn’t left him...he was going to be ten times worse when reality set in. 

It took every bone in his body to drag himself up from the ground.

And it was a little bit like moving underwater...as he staggered to the door to his son and his son’s lover’s shared room. Genesis unlocked it wordlessly and he muttered a ‘thank you’ that held so little weight he felt horrible for even uttering it. The room was dark and somehow that was a blessed thing because it mirrored how he felt. Casting his eyes over the bed he immediately didn’t know what to do. He knew he couldn’t sleep...knew that he couldn’t stay upright as he was...knew that he couldn’t eat or do anything remotely normal. The floor was covered with soft carpet...thick and warm from his knowledge of the carpet in their- _ his- _ rooms. He settled with sinking down onto that...with lowering himself to the softer flooring and holding the shirt in desperate trembling fingers. And if Angeal was there he would have knelt next to him...would have looked into his eyes with solemn affection and told him of his worth...of his value in a world that seemed so uncertain. Hanging his head, Vincent looked at the blue fabric in his palms and felt like he was dying. Because surely no one could survive something like this for very long. 

_ “I don’t want to see you like this…” _

There was no one to see him now. Angeal had made him feel important...had looked at him like he was  _ someone.  _ And he’d never had that before...not from someone who wasn’t family. Lucrecia had looked at him like he was a possession...like he was something that glittered that she wanted to keep but the former General had looked at him like he was every dream he’d ever dreamt woven into a single individual. And he didn’t know what to do now that that look wasn’t there...now that those careful sapphire eyes were forever closed on his shores. And he wanted  _ so badly… _ wanted to be  _ seen  _ again. Something nudged him and he startled somewhat only to see that Genesis was bending down to offer him several blankets and a couple pillows. Lifting his gaze, he was met with understanding cerulean irises and he relaxed somewhat. Because Genesis didn’t expect him to sleep in the bed that he shared with Sephiroth...knew how uncomfortable that would be and wasn’t going to force the issue. Taking the aforementioned items, Vincent cleared his throat and forced himself to speak.

“Thank you.” 

The redhead offered him a tight smile; which wasn’t really a smile, more like a pained grimace, or maybe not even that, but it didn’t matter as his son’s partner straightened to his full height again, seemingly having either swallowed his voice or the younger man was having trouble speaking like he had… probably had the same shards scraping his throat raw like Vincent had…and it was strange, and not so much at the same time.

The former Commander took a chair and dragged it to the window farthest from him, put it down there and sat down. Cracked the frame open just enough, and thankfully, Banora was a quiet town at night. Didn’t look at him, and why would he...when the crimson-eyed man knew for sure he looked like a wreck. And even if his son’s partner did, those weren’t the blue eyes he wanted on him...those kind sapphire eyes were gone forever...along with a large portion of his heart, a significant part of his soul…because everything Vincent had given to that dark-haired, blue-eyed soldier-as meager as it might have been-was gone along with him now...  _ gone… gone…dead _ … The world they had shaped together, the world that beautiful mind had envisioned, that those kind hands,  _ his Angeal’s  _ kind hands had created...it was all falling down around him… The life they had built together, around one another...strong, beautiful...the life they could’ve had,  _ together _ , forever… and now that forever had taken it away and dashed it to pieces… cut through it like a blade tearing through his flesh, through his heart… ripped it asunder.

There was the flick of a lighter.

The flame fluttered gently, the only light inside the room aside from the faint moonlight streaming through the shutters. And it wasn’t really enough for him to see the more intricate details on the face of the other occupant of the room, ephemeral as it was. Darkness fell again, but for the trembling orange ember at the end of Genesis’ cigarette. Briefly, he could see the way those eyes were pressed tight together; the turbulent smoke heralding a shaky exhale, and how those shoulders were hunched slightly forward… It was enough. Vincent knew that he should probably say something...that he should offer some form of comfort but everything he thought of fell flat in his mind. His brain kept going over Angeal’s death like it was a case he’d been assigned...like watching his lover’s chest cease to rise again was something to be examined...like it wasn’t  _ hurting  _ him every time he thought about it...like he hadn’t repeatedly gone over when Eirene pushed the syringe in...like he hadn’t memorized how those beautiful lashes had fluttered shut with sleep. But he had...he had and he had and he couldn’t stop going over it. Couldn’t stop the grief that choked him until he felt like he was drowning himself…’till he was nearly physically sick with it. And it was really only because his body, his mind, and his  _ heart  _ were so broken that he fell asleep. 

…..And it wasn’t so much that he slept than that he lost consciousness somewhere between thinking about how Angeal had died with a smile on his face and how he used to smile at him. 


	21. Chapter Nineteen: Alternate Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the very first chapter of the alternate ending which would be ultimately happy. That's not to say that it won't be happy along the way, but y'know. If you skipped the tragic chapter and don't want to get anywhere near that route, or if you chose to give both endings a try, this is the right place for you.
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy.

They made it to Banora a week after the incident with Aerith’s healing rain.

Leaning heavily on his lover’s physicality, Angeal tried not to slip on aqua-and-mako-slick stones that made the floor of the underground caverns. They’d uncovered superannuated documents about the existence of it when they’d been looking for a place that could contain Sephiroth from what seemed so long ago. The dark-haired former General had already known about its existence, but not about the extent of the equipment left behind by Shinra, the remaining-and surprisingly still working infrastructure-along with the multitude of horrible and dangerous mutated monsters and the resident specimens they’d had to dispatch; it had been unbeknownst to all four of them. 

Despite Vincent’s obvious yet unspoken disapproval of his attendance and Genesis’ rather vocal disagreement, the blue-eyed First hadn’t been able to stand back. Not in lieu of the new developments that had started from as early as back in HQ as the date of their departure had drawn near, up until last night. 

He’d left the documents about Reeve’s proposed offer about the future of his partner’s position inside the drawer where… Shaking his head, he had to stop that train of thought, however, the sigh that escaped his lips-which echoed off the walls-garnered him a concerned, questioning crimson gaze.

The older man had filed for leave along with him-not that Angeal did much around the headquarters anymore, anyway-and Sephiroth, and everyone in the chain of Command-which would ultimately be Lazard and Reeve-agreed to it without question. The problem had been settling on a means of transportation and finding a lab assistant that his partner would be alright with having around on an almost constant basis, more or less.

When the argument had happened between the four of them in that room in the labs, Angeal had almost lost hope for them ever visiting Banora; but it seemed, for some reason-which he ventured to guess was his sake, considering the worried looks his redheaded best friend, and really everyone seemed to be giving him-Sephiroth and Genesis had let it go. The former General had tried bringing that incident up another time, only for the redheaded former Commander to start barking at him, and then-as though regretting it-promptly pleaded him to let it go. Seeing those supplicative cerulean irises, the Banoran hadn’t been able to say no to the older man who was actually like his younger brother.

Revisiting ‘Banora’ which was definitely not Banora was strange at best, agonizingly hard at worst. Angeal had to actively resist the urge to make a beeline for their old home; because there was going to be no Gillian there to greet him, no magically baked pies, and no almost-threadbare but no less precious clothing smelling of his mother. Instead, they had settled for the replica of the inn that his best friend had once worked at as part of his rebellious teenage phase. Every once in a while, he’d been accosted with a frenzied query of why they were staying at an inn when they could go to his home… There were times when he’d almost been overcome by an urge to take Vincent’s hand and drag the ebon-haired gunslinger with him back to his place, so he could introduce him to his mother; had almost risen from wherever he’d been sitting at the moment only to settle back down feeling rather dumb and somewhat heartbroken.

Aside from his bouts of ephemeral madness, they made good memories together after what seemed to be so long. All four of them now. And it made him so incredibly  _ happy _ to see everyone getting along with each other that he’d almost forgotten about what was to come. 

Almost.

Having breakfast on top of a hill which had been their favorite haunt, silhouetted against the rising sun was a veritably different experience. Angeal’s definitions for describing experiences fell awfully and shamefully short when trying to bring it to the realm of words. It was amazing, ethereal, peaceful, soothing, and beautiful at the same time. It pulled at his heartstrings because Vincent was there with him, and he was one of the three reasons it was so meaningful and priceless inside his heart; because he’d been able to share it with his crimson-gazed lover. And really, maybe to some people this was nothing, same with the other gestures they’d shared...tranquil moments of trailing behind his two idiotic friends or walking slowly with the ebon-haired man at his side, but these simple matters meant the most to him. The former General was sure that his redheaded best friend would scoff at such notions, but Angeal couldn’t change himself just like a leopard couldn’t change his spots. 

To say that he felt blessed to have the older man beside him wouldn’t even begin to describe his gratitude, a feeling among the many that his companion evoked within him. To walk under the purple and green-dotted wooden limbs of Banora White trees, to stroll through seas of emerald waving under the gentle caress of the wind, to revisit childhood places they’d frequented…

And then the night he had tried his damnedest not to go to sleep…had tried his best to be as stealthy as he could despite his failing body, and then lead his lover out into the middle of the streets in the dead of the night in some sort of hide and seek…it had been a night to remember. How he’d wanted to trace the features on that beautiful visage illuminated by astral light with his fingertips, to thread his digits in the exquisite fall of those midnight-colored tresses, to commit it all to memory like every other facet of the unique individual before him… They made love that night. And he hadn’t been able to have enough of drinking in the sight of his partner’s physicality...his words were inadequate in expressing how he’d felt when pleasure coursed and undulated just underneath yards of pearlescent sweat-dappled epidermis; the tremulous issue of heated breath, voiceless gasps, quiet moans, and muted groans...the gorgeous blush dusting high cheekbones. Angeal’s fingers had been covetous in their exploration, in their rediscovery, in their appreciation, reverence, and exultation at being privy to such magnificent moments.

How the former General wished that the vision he’d been accosted with afterwards hadn’t taken away from such transient yet transcendent beauty.

It kept getting more detailed as though building up to a ruinous crescendo; and it was  _ ruinous _ , continuing past the borders of the previous ones he’d had, and yet, the one he’d had last night was the most complete…the most dispiriting. 

Waking up from his nightmare to a very concerned looking Vincent, drenched in cold sweat and with the lingering traces of a voice in the back of his head-which was quickly fading away and receding, but not forgotten-Angeal Hewley had decided that he was going to come with everyone to the underground caverns. 

Genesis and Sephiroth had been venturing ahead of them for the most part of their perilous trek, and yet, Vincent had to leave his side every once in a while. Meanwhile, he either sat down on a boulder to recuperate, or had to hover uselessly while his lover joined his former comrades in dealing with the opponents that kept getting more and more bizarre and hard to dispatch. Again and again, he’d had to wait, further and further away from their battlefield due to the unexpected agility and brutality of those that had come before them… He’d had to trudge through the blood and gore of their forebearers and wonder how much of it was the carmine spilt from his friends veins, from his lover’s… Angeal didn’t know how to feel about these heralds of greatness brought to ruin, wondered if he were to succumb to his illness, these abominations were what was going to become of him. 

It didn’t seem like there was any other way for them to go except forward. They hadn’t left any cavern, any dilapidated cell unchecked; passed by epigraphs and inscriptions recounting the very poem his childhood friend seemed to have some sort of premonitional belief in… Retrieved numerous materias, and went past a platform overlooking a great maw of darkness and light wrought into one. 

There had been the cacophony of blades, the sing of swords, and it was nothing out of the ordinary. Yet, the leaden feeling in his chest that had been gripping him by the throat dropped to his stomach when he heard Genesis cry out in a heart-wrenching, excruciating howl as though his very soul was being ripped out of him.

Because it was just like his nightmares… Because against his hopes and wishes, all had come to the worst.

They broke into a semblance of a run only to come face to face with a being that was surely divine; empyrean and heavenly, seraphic, and it was almost too hard to even stand upright in her magnificent presence. 

And yet, Genesis had, Sephiroth had...but at the most terrible price. 

Angeal didn’t have the time to appreciate her effervescent beauty because… 

Because Sephiroth was dying.

Stabbed through his heart, silver strands quickly turning carmine, and the long sword held in those celestial fingers was dyed with it. In her other hand, the Goddess was holding the redhead’s Rapier; his childhood friend was heedless to it even as he tried to hoist his lover’s body up, a noir plumage extended to fly away through the hail of rocks that were falling from the roof of the caves in the aftermath of a fiery spell… And Angeal knew what would happen if he didn’t interfere; didn’t need yet another vision to spell it out for him. 

Poised to claim yet another heart, yet another  _ life _ , the tiniest downturn of peach-colored lips was the only sign of Goddess’ disappointment...the sense of finality, and-...

“-Stop!” Angeal fell to his knees. “Take me instead,  _ I beg of you! _ ” Beseeching, with his head bowed; he was ready to do anything,  _ anything _ for her to spare them, spare Genesis and Sephiroth, spare Vincent who was standing behind him. “Take me instead.” He repeated. “Let them go.” 

It seemed to give his friends ample time to get away, even as the embodiment of the Planet’s will turned to regard him and his offer. There was something distinctly tangible about being face to face with a deity. For Angeal, it was anticlimactic. And those eyes... _ those golden eyes... _ they pierced him...saw every facet of him but it brought him no relief...no solace. 

** _“Your soul is pure.” _ **

Angeal wanted to laugh, wanted to cry. Because what was purity, really? What was any of it in the face of how much they all had fought? How could anyone assuage or separate in the face of this? It was impossible. Redemption, retribution... _ it didn’t matter.  _ You couldn’t judge based on action alone, you couldn’t. And he had no respect for a merciless goddess, had no patience and no kindness in the face of it. He didn’t care if it was all-knowing...didn’t care what the significance of her presence entailed because she had  _ done this.  _ But he would supplicate because that was all he could do...all he had left to offer. He was a dying man...a dying  _ soul  _ and the end result was negligible, it just couldn’t be  _ this.  _ He knew what he was offering...knew how much it would hurt Vincent...but it was a hurt he had prepared for nevertheless...just sooner than he had wanted it to be...more spontaneous. 

** _“You have not sinned.” _ **

Sin. Oh, he had sinned enough. There was just as much blood on his hands as his comrades. And really, did fighting a war on Shinra’s side for voracity, for more power and land, make it right? Did their obliviousness, their naivete-even though it was half their own fault, and half the intricate web of lies the company had in place to hide the truth-justify the innumerable Wutain they had slain? Did they make them somehow less of innocent people? They, too, had families waiting for them; and unlike them, unlike SOLDIER, they were fighting for their right for freedom, for their land, for their honor. But there was no use dwelling on it now. 

** _“Don’t associate yourself with the calamity’s spawn.”_ **

Omniscient as she was, and omnipresent, but it was with a narrow-minded point of view. Because Jenova coursed in his veins just as much as it did in Genesis’, in Sephiroth’s, and in Vincent’s. There was nothing making any one of them worthier or more unworthy than the others. To solely blame the silver-haired General for the circumstances that had shaped his character, for whatever his death and his time in Lifestream had brought upon him to make him want to swear death and destruction at the world was a faulty way to go about it. And the General in interim aside, why was the Goddess going after his redheaded friend? Was it the culmination of a fervent belief, even if it was something of the past? To mete out death and heartbreak and agony on someone who’d already had enough of it in his life? Not even considering the fact that those very two individuals had been the only reason that the Planet was still  _ alive _ after the Omega incident, again at the expense of their relationship? Regardless, these weren’t what he was pleading for; that was not the point of it. He was here to make an offer.

“Let him live. Take me instead.”

She was considering it.

And he didn’t like the concept of having to give sacrifice in order to ameliorate it, but that was what he was trying to do. Vaguely, he could sense that Vincent was panicked...that he was conflicted and failing to keep an entirely impassive composure. And who wouldn’t? A tendril of light stretched towards him...like a luminescent breath of wind...twining and curling...wrapping in and around itself until it reached him. And he could sense rather than see that it was gauging the verity of his words...putting his resolve to the test. He didn’t waver in his stance...didn’t drop his gaze from the goddess even as more joined it. 

** _“You would give your life in recompense for them…?” _ **

It wasn’t so much a question as it was an observance. The tendrils dove deep, dug in and spread forward. And it was a little bit odd because he didn’t  _ feel  _ like he was dying, not really. Instead he felt like he was gaining strength, like the weariness that had haunted him for so long was disappearing from his bones. The ache that was so pervasive was slowly fading, and if this was death...it was a merciful death. Not that he was grateful; he would have taken an excruciating death in favor of his friends dying . Behind all of it...behind the effervescence was something greater...something more insidious and more grounding but he couldn’t focus on it in the face of his gratuity. It slithered into his soul...rooted itself there and grew into a definition of a promise; whole and hard and everlasting. 

** _“I accept your terms.” _ **

Whispering...screaming...murmuring...Minerva’s voice was a soundless cacophony within him...like the echoing reverberations of a whale shivering out from deep water.  ** _“You will serve me...as my WEAPON...in the place of the WEAPONs I have lost.” _ **

And Angeal wanted to weep. Not for himself, but because this was something that given a choice, he would have wanted to share with the ebon-haired gunslinger… That now, they were somehow back at square one, just with their roles reversed. But he pushed aside that feeling of profound grief aside; pushed aside the thought that slithered across his psyche asking him why the ex-Turk would want to bind himself to an undying  _ WEAPON _ that would never follow him… That there would never be a  _ ‘till death do us part’ _ for them, and he didn’t want to watch Vincent die...didn’t want to watch Genesis and Sephiroth die...didn’t want to have to bury them, to outlive them… 

No. 

He crushed it all with an iron fist and accepted his fate, as staggering and back-bowing as it was.

Lingering for a moment more, that thread of invigorating effervescence seemed to seep through his every vein and artery, down to each and every capillary network; across his neurons and over synapses, and the dark-haired former General could feel it gaining strength, becoming an all-encompassing thing on the verge of being painful. It even got nearly to the point that he was feeling lightheaded with it; briefly, vaguely wondering if it was akin to those experiences Aerith had recounted for him. The myriad of voices echoing within his soul felt like ripples across a crystal clear water surface, reflecting the Banoran summer sky…

** _“Bound to us, and yet free to have your will… The Planet has become your guardian, Angeal Hewley… You cannot go against us… Now rise!”_ **

Immediately, he felt the connection, that luminescent link being severed from Minerva’s side-how he knew her name was beyond him at the moment-as those golden eyes widened with an eerie expression resembling amusement; and he could see those peach-colored lips stretch into the most bizarre of smiles while being as dispassionate as they always were. Reeling, as though he’d been shoved, he fell back, almost hitting his head on the stones at the floor of the caves were it not for his own hand that darted out to break his fall.

Goddess, she was gone.

The statue in front of them fractured in half with a resounding crack; fell to the ground in a pile of dull marble, lacking the luminescence that had been radiating from it before. The whitish limbs that rose to the ceiling behind it, too, were now free of the enormous maroon orb they had been housing. 

When he breathed, Angeal felt like he hadn’t for the past few minutes, hours, however long it had taken… It rushed into his lungs, and he felt starved for air, for oxygen...but he still couldn’t comprehend the intricacies of his encounter; couldn’t yet deal with the knowledge that he’d become a permanent facet of the planet in the face of whatever his lover might be feeling beside him. His eyes landed on the crimson-caped man, and his heart shattered to pieces.

Vincent looked scared half out of his wits.

Really, he was looking at him like he wasn’t sure it was him...and that left him entirely confused. Had something happened to his face...his appearance? A cold fear bloomed in his chest. Did being a WEAPON mean being turned into something like Chaos? But no, the goddess had said that he had free will. If she’d turned him into an abomination then he’d have rather her rip him of his free will. Putting a hand in front of him...he was relieved to find it whole...more than whole really. The tell tale signs of degradation were gone...the mottled, greyish color that had encompassed his skin was gone. Yanking his sleeve up presented more unblemished, unmarred epidermis. And he’d known this...a little bit. Logical deduction forced him to reason that the Goddess couldn’t have a  _ dying  _ WEAPON, but it was still a little jarring to see. He did  _ feel  _ better, that much was apparent. He hadn’t felt so good in a long time. But the price of it was so high he couldn’t help but feel terrible about it...couldn’t help but feel guilty.

_ “Angeal.”  _

Breathed...whispered almost. Soft...disbelieving and somehow so much younger than his years. And he wanted to say something, wanted to offer reassurance but Vincent had already dropped to the ground to join him...had practically fallen before him in order to halfway crawl to him...to take his hands...to look at them...like those beautiful crimson eyes couldn’t conscience what they were seeing. There was the clink of vambraces, the slide of fabric over fabric, and the older man was essentially sitting in his lap...fingers framing his face...that beautiful visage staring into his soul. His partner’s expression was half incredulity and half terrible longing, and it was so rare for him to be so emotionally open. Though, in retrospect, he supposed that seeing his son get stabbed through the chest might have something to do with it. A glance in that direction gave way to the fact that Sephiroth and Genesis were gone...had been gone for who knows how long...the only indication they’d been there at all was the pervasive rubicund stain on the cave floor. 

_ “-Geal...”  _

Mirroring the gesture of those ivory long fingers, Angeal wasn’t sure of the expression on his face; didn’t know it was that of anguish or relief because his solace was lined with sorrow and his pain, his  _ guilt _ was accompanied with...it was an unnameable feeling. He could’ve seen himself mirrored in those beautiful ruby irises, but instead he followed the path his fluctuant digits had taken… From pale cerise lips that uttered his name in a manner that was at the same time reverent and grounding, to a pale pointed chin, then along the strong line of a proud jaw before diving into the soft waterfall of midnight… And he couldn’t help but pull the older man close; knew that their embrace might be too tight, his meandering hand that was bunching up and crumpling a crimson cape too rough in his attempts at reassuring both of them that he was going to  _ live… _

When he kissed Vincent, he couldn’t help but whimper against those plush lips...and it wasn’t a kiss really, more like a rough brush of his mouth against the soft familiar vermillion of his partner’s. Because Angeal felt like he was breaking inside, didn’t-couldn’t hold himself together. He didn’t even realize how his pleading, supplicative vociferations of the older man’s name had been laced with pain. His vision blurred and he had to close his eyes...to just breathe the smell of his lover’s blood and his toil; had to think of evergreens and what seemed a distant past...a time of respite, of immeasurable peace during so much upheaval at the time. He tried to center himself, to pull himself together even if it was for the sake of his partner. Because the ebon-haired ex-Turk had almost witnessed his son’s death...and the former General didn’t know if the planet would keep his side of the bargain especially since it came to what it had so flagrantly called  _ ‘Jenova’s spawn’ _ .

“Why are you  _ crying?”  _

Vincent’s voice was incredulous, disbelieving...still tinged with wonder and he wanted to shrivel up and disappear. Because he didn’t understand...but now he  _ understood.  _ He understood the fear the older man had felt while he was tied to Chaos...that sense of endless...yawning longevity that would never cease...never change. His body would never age, though his mind might. And time would spin out beyond him...would extend itself far beyond the parameters of normal human longevity. For all he knew humanity could cease to exist and he might still be there...the last, lonely soul in all of existence. There was a time, very long ago, when immortality had seemed attractive. In their teenage years, he and Genesis had joked about invincibility, about being forever young and forever free. He might be forever young...but now he was fettered...fettered to a Planet that demanded his subservience...his loyalty. 

“Angeal,” his partner whispered again. “You’re well, you’re  _ whole.”  _ The older man’s voice broke on the word ‘whole.’ Those fingers slid into his hair, brushed over his scalp and familiar lips were peppering kisses over his eyelids...down over his cheeks until it was pressed open-mouthed against his jaw. The gunslinger’s breath hitched and it was a heavy thing...so inundated with relief...so terribly grateful that he wanted to scream. “I love you,” was the muffled declaration. “I  _ love  _ you.” Warm...his arms were so warm...and he was going to miss those arms...was going to long for them when his lover had passed on and he remained. “I’m so grateful.” 

And the former General was grateful, he truly was because he was going to live but the possibility that the older man might reconsider everything when he came out with this terrible burden made it pale. 

Carding his fingers through the chaotic halo of ebon tresses, Angeal committed to his memory those beautiful aquiline features that made up his entire world; because that was how much he loved Vincent. “I’m sorry,” And the apology that fell from his lips seemed to surprise both of them, laden with grief, even as he repeated it again. “I’m so sorry… I love you, you’re my world, my entire existence…” A trembling hand cradled the pale slope of his lover’s cheek. “But I’m not well...I won’t be well, I won’t be  _ whole _ …” It was his turn for his voice to break. Because he wanted to say  _ I’ll miss you _ , but instead “She made a WEAPON out of me…” came out of his mouth as he dropped his head onto a carmine-clad shoulder. “ _ I know now... _ how you felt...back then.”

Vincent paused, gently pushed him back up, and again those crimson eyes surveyed him. He sensed rather than saw that the gunslinger wasn't searching for verity...rather...he was simply observing. And he didn't  _ understand  _ how he could remain so calm in the face of this...how he could save face and remain stoic and serious. To him, this was worse than a death sentence...worse than anything he could have possibly anticipated...but not so apparently for his partner. 

“Listen to me,” the older man said seriously. “You did a good thing. You  _ saved  _ Sephiroth, possibly saved Genesis as well. And  _ unlike  _ me, you didn't get immortality because you were hopeless and self-centered and blind. Let me ask you this, did she give you free will?” When the younger man nodded jerkily, he continued. “And your only caveat is that you can't harm her, I'm guessing.” Again, Angeal nodded. A wry smile was his answer. “It seems that things are rather anticlimactic for Sephiroth and I. I lose my immortality only for you to get it, Genesis sacrifices himself for the Planet and Sephiroth lives a life of domesticity in HQ.” When the younger man opened his mouth, he smiled wryly. “I'm not complaining,” he said gently. “At all...I value this...this simplicity. It's all well and good to make sacrifices, but finding yourself, defining yourself everyday, that's harder.” A hand cupped his cheek. “And that's all you've ever wanted,” was the slightly sorrowful continuation. “...And now you're given this.” The palm fell away even as the gunslinger looked away. “I... don't have words to assuage it,” Vincent murmured. “Only...I'm happy to be here, with you...as long as I'm able.” A bitter laugh. “Of all the selfish, blind people who seek immortality because they fear death...and it had to be you...the one person who would never want it.” 

The ex-Turk shifted and scrubbed his hands over his eyes. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” the crimson-eyed gunslinger continued quietly. “I love you, I still want to spend our lives together. And I'm  _ sorry  _ that this was the cost to get that. If I'd known...I'd have…” he trailed off...his shoulders slumping. “I'm just…selfish I suppose.” Another laugh. “I'm happy to have you...even if you remain as you are... that's never going to cause resentment in me. And if you'd decided that I was too wrinkled and old for you, that would be understandable as well.” 

“How can you even say that?” The frown on his brow couldn’t get any deeper. And he knew the reason why such a statement had been uttered in the first place: he’d been through it himself. If he hadn’t, he’d have been really  _ really _ hurt. Motioning to stand up, his partner got the cue and an apologetic look flashed over pale features as the older man extricated himself from his lap and lent him a hand. Eyeing those digits, Angeal decided to accept them. He was immensely grateful that he hadn’t decided to risk standing up on his own, because while he was feeling much more steady, there was the fact that his body was more or less stripped off its muscle mass during his degradation. That was still going to pose a problem. Briefly acknowledging that he was going to need extensive physical therapy-and quite possibly the whole process initiates go through in terms of nutrition, training, and mako treatments when they got back-Angeal had to lean onto his partner again as he added at length. “You’re the love of my life. Did you decide that I was too wrinkled and old for you when I was degrading? No...so my answer is very much the same. You stood by me, beside me, let me lean and depend on you. I’d never, I would _ never  _ forgive myself if I left your side for such petty reasons.” The older man seemed to want to object, so Angeal hurried with his words. “And if you want to tell me that it’s not petty, alright, I can accept that but let me repeat your words back to you. I’m older than I look, I’m not a teenager...and aesthetics only go so far, physicality as well...it’s your mind, your soul, as you put it, that I love. You’re beautiful Vincent...eternally. And I’m entirely grateful that you still want to be with me.”

The smile he was offered was tentative, and a little sad. 

“I think extraneous options are things I feel like I have to offer out of habit,” was the wry response. “It comes with being old and worrisome.” A heavy sigh, and they slowly began their journey out of the caverns. “Nevertheless, it wasn’t a fair statement, I agree, and I’m sorry.”

It was strange to walk through the caverns without the sense of urgency that had driven them there in the first place. Surrounded by ghosts of Shinra’s turgid past...he couldn’t help but feel a bit separate from it...like it was an out of body experience he was going through from miles away. Stalagmites and stalactites glittered in dark corners; the drip of water quiet and everlasting. Cave air was eternally cool...buoyed with up and downdrafts from unidentifiable sources. The monsters they had slain were a good ‘breadcrumb’ trail leading their way back to the surface...black and red blood of various viscosities stained limestone and gypsum interlacing colors...coagulating to run into still, clear pools filled with sightless fish and other sub-dwelling creatures that would never see the light of day. These they circumvented...took their time in making their way back up to the surface in a kind of thoughtful...heavy silence.

Angeal could feel that Vincent was still tense...that he remained anxious despite the fact that they’d found some type of common ground. He himself was still conflicted on the subject of his immortality and would be for some time. It was a hard thing to face...a terrible thing-in his eyes-and he didn’t know how to conscience it. When the first rays of sunlight began to suffuse the walls...he stopped...staring at the mouth of the caverns and wondering how it was possible to go into something so different from when he reemerged. The feeling was a little bit cataclysmic. He startled as Vincent cleared his throat.

“Do you...do you think...Sephiroth…?” the older man stopped, apparently unable to go on. 

The possibility hadn’t left the background of his mind. It was another bitter, agonizing thing to conscience if worse came to the worst… He’d tried, and so had Vincent and Genesis…so had Sephiroth, only for it all to be lost again. He couldn’t simply fathom how it might affect his childhood friend; if he’d turn bitter and vengeful again like he had when he’d emerged from the hellish bowels of Deepground, or if he’d decide to become recluse and unresponsive, a husk of the man who he used to be. They all had tried only for his hands to be dyed by Sephiroth’s blood again...and he knew if he voiced such thought, Vincent would try to rationalize it, that he wouldn’t find him guilty like he hadn’t the first time...would relinquish his right as a father again because it was in the pursuit for his cure that the silver-haired man would have lost his life...and that wasn’t really fair, no. It wasn’t fair at all.

There really was no easy way to answer that question, and Angeal had no choice but to hope; to believe what the planet had told him, because the alternative was heinous.

Tightening his hold around his lover’s waist for an infinitesimal moment, he tried to smile in a manner that he hoped was reassuring, miniscule, even though he couldn’t stop wondering how badly his eyes were betraying him. “We can try to find them when we get out...there’s no cell reception down here. Vincent, he’s a survivor...or at least that’s what I believe. What I chose and still choose to believe.”

For the first time, the gunslinger seemed to allow the emotion he was feeling in regards to the situation show on his face. It was a fleeting thing...but the impression it left was soul-shaking. There was the expression of horror, of despair, of terrible fear and he knew how he was feeling because he’d felt some of it himself. Had felt it when that blade sliced through the General in interim like he was a thing of dust and not a being of muscle, sinew, and bone. Truthfully, he didn’t know if survival was possible. Wounds like that were mortal ninety five percent of the time; he’d seen it in the field. Seen men run through and left to bleed out in minutes. The only thing that gave him hope was the fact that he’d done the same to Sephiroth and he’d survived...long enough to fall into a mako tank and dissolve, of course. But he’d also survived long enough to spit crazy vitriol in his face, which he supposed made things somewhat more hopeful. His partner swallowed thickly, his visage obscured by his hair as he looked away.

“You never think about how it would feel,” he said in a low voice. When Angeal didn't reply, he elaborated. “Seeing your child die...burying them.” The gunslinger cleared his throat. “In this world it’s a real possibility, even when your child is one of the most powerful individuals on the planet.” Leather-clad shoulders slumped. “Is it...is it cowardly that I don’t want to leave?” When the former General opened his mouth to reply, he held up his hand. “Don’t answer that.” A reassuring hand was placed on the younger man’s shoulder to assuage the heaviness of the words. “I know we have to, and we will. I’m just...working through it...but we don’t have time.” Crimson eyes cut to him, and they were soft but agonized at the same time. “And you have so much to shoulder already...we both need time to process this, I think.” 

Allowing himself to lean more on his cane than on the individual beside him, he turned to face the gunslinger more fully, still holding onto the fabric of leather and kevlar that covered his lover’s torso. Angeal let the hand that was cradling the side of his lover’s visage drop to the to the older man’s neck in order to bring their foreheads together. With his thumb, he brushed the unblemished epidermis to and fro, in a gesture that he hoped to be slightly comforting in their sea of turmoil. With his eyes closed, he just breathed in tandem with his partner before offering quietly. “We can stay here for as long as you need. And don’t worry about me, you’ve worried enough...now let me take care of you, let me worry about you.” Pulling the older man close in an embrace, he let his fingers brush a mane of ebony hair once, twice, before he settled his hand at the nape of his companion’s neck. “We can stay here for as long as you need.” And he wanted to say that he had all the time in the world to spend with his crimson-gazed partner, but that wasn’t true… While Jenova cells might have bestowed them with the benefit of longevity-more than the course of normal humans lives-that didn’t mean they were immune from the ravages of time. Nothing was...not even the Planet itself.

* * *

They hadn’t stayed in the caves for too long, but their perilous trek to the depths of the caves and their emergence out of them had taken long enough for it to be dark by the time they reached the fountain their hotel overlooked. 

Just over the threshold of their rooms, and Angeal’s phone had been going off, Genesis’ number flashing over the screen; and he hadn’t hesitated flipping the gadget open and putting it on speaker. The moment ‘Shinra’, ‘labs’, and ‘surgery’ had flitted through the speaker in a voice that was his childhood friend’s but off-sounding, his blue eyes had locked with crimson ones; and then, with a nod of an onyx head, Vincent had retrieved his own device from his belt to request for a helicopter to pick them up.

Angeal had gathered his comrades’ belongings from their rooms, apologizing to the keepers for ‘losing’ the key they’d been given, while his partner washed the grime and gore of his toil and packed up their own duffel bags. Among everything that had been going on, the younger man was preoccupied with how his former comrade and his lover might have traversed the distance between Banora and Midgar. From what he remembered from their battle in the very city that had housed their last hope and dread wrapped into one, they had prevented Sephiroth from using his teleportation abilities by holding onto him. His musings hadn’t been able to provide him a means to rationalize it, but the former General couldn’t stop feeling grateful for the cells that had saved his partner’s life, and now said partner’s son’s…even though they had been the reason he’d been ailing in the first place before the Planet-or the goddess it didn’t make any difference-had provided him a cure.

Returning the vehicle they had rented and embarking toward the black hull of the chopper-with the lab assistant they had brought along,  _ Eirene _ , in tow-they’d all shared a tense sort of hurried silence. There wasn’t much they could do, and even though all of them were exhausted-quite possibly Eirene as well-no sleep had come to their eyes. The relief that came from Genesis’ text-informing them that the former Commander’s partner was out of the surgery and in the recovery-while profound, was like the flicker of a candle in the wind...because there were still too many things that could go wrong. There had been survivors of stab wounds to the heart, but there were simply too many parameters involved; too many possibilities and probabilities, and still, there had always been a degree of brain damage…

Something he had held onto-and hoped Vincent had as well-was the regenerative ability with which Sephiroth had given the ebon-haired ex-Turk his lost limb. 

It seemed to take them forever to get back to base, but once they did, he’d been accosted with the wild urge to tear the door open and leap before they could land; the only thing that held him back was the patience with which the older man had accompanied him, one slow step after another on top of the landing pad...through the brightly lit halls and sterile corridors, even though Angeal was certain he couldn’t wait to see his son.

And finally, they arrived, led by a lab assistant to a nondescript door in the place that used to be Hojo’s lair. Inside, a head of red was nestled against a bare shoulder, facing away from them and effectively blocking their view of Sephiroth’s visage… Further in, and the youngest of them was looking almost deathly pale under the dim light of the recovery, his torso wrapped in dressing and veiled by a thin blanket. Their entry spurred the redheaded ex-First to raise his head so he could regard them with his red-rimmed eyes, fingers that had been intertwined just on the edge of the bed tightening minutely at the sight of the dark-haired duo.

For what seemed like an eternity, all was quiet. Angeal breathed a sigh of relief and felt himself sag against his lover’s side before letting go of a strong forearm. Leaning to the wall and on his cane instead, he nodded his head toward the bed. “I’ll be fine.” He said reassuringly.

Vincent remained where he was, as if hesitant. And the younger man understood. The gunslinger was unsure of his place in this particular situation; wasn’t entirely certain if rushing forward was the appropriate thing to do. And he wanted to shake him a little bit because Genesis was not going to begrudge him hysteria in a time like this...wasn’t going to prevent him from seeing his son after everything that had transpired. He watched with exasperated blue eyes as the ex-Turk appeared to take a half-step forward before freezing once more...his visage a mask of indecision. Pale fingers grasped opposing elbows in a gesture that would have been defensive if it wasn’t so obvious that his lover was trying to exercise restraint. In the end, the ebon-haired man settled with disappearing abruptly-much to the former General’s surprise and a little of his irritation-before reappearing just as suddenly with a high-backed chair. And he couldn’t help the grateful half-smile that spread over his lips as he sank into it...couldn’t help reaching out to squeeze his companion’s hand briefly as he leaned his cane on his knee and sat back somewhat. 

A tech bustled in-presumably to check the monitors-and Vincent’s attention immediately zeroed in on her.

“What are we looking at?” he said flatly, his lips barely moving.

“Considerable trauma to the sternum and subcutaneous tissue,” was the professional reply as the woman bent over slightly to check the connection to the saline drip. “Lucky he’s resilient.” She paused and straightened. “The speed of his regeneration will considerably lessen his recovery time, and it’s difficult to give you an estimated parameter of full recovery based on that, but I’d give it a week before he’s up and moving again, minimum.” A pause. “We performed a PET scan and an MRI, everything seems to be working normally in terms of brain function, but I can’t guarantee anything until he wakes up. He’ll come out of it when he’s ready, nothing good will come from forcing it.” Her eyes slid appraisingly to Angeal. “Is there anything I can get any of you?” 

With a weary but no less kind smile, the dark-haired First shook his head; and it was really bizarre to have strands the color of stygian ink fall into his face as he did so, after so long. “Thank you.” He muttered quietly, to which the lab assistant nodded her head. 

“If you need anything, you can find my colleagues in the General ward.” And in swish of fluttering lab coat, she was gone, the door sliding shut behind her.

Focusing on his redheaded former comrade-who seemed to be at war with himself between staying awake and trying to get some sleep before Sephiroth regained consciousness-he found shuttered blue irises regarding him and Vincent. 

““What happened?”” Quite humorously both of the Banorans uttered at the same time. Though Genesis’ voice was almost inaudible, there was a rough quality to it. Apparently, from the expression both he and the crimson-eyed gunslinger must have been sporting, they were more interested to hear the account of how the redhead and his lover had ended up here.

“What’s there to tell?” The older man’s voice broke. “I tried taking him away from that wretched place to s-somewhere, anywhere really...just…” A rush of tremulous breath in a pause that seemed to never want to end. “ _ Try to-! _ ” The hand holding Sephiroth’s tightened for a miniscule moment; fingers flexed as though wanting to leave ivory digits before their owner seemed to change his mind and held onto them once more. “He was still awake, barely, just enough to…” Genesis trailed off again. 

“It’s alright, you don’t have to force it Gen.”

“We were up in wisps of corrupt Lifestream the next instant, it was…” A grimace, or maybe it was pain scrunching up pale features; Angeal wasn’t sure. “I panicked. We were almost barrelling through the 67th floor when we reappeared. H-he nearly fell-I couldn’t stop it-had to roll with it so he wouldn’t get hurt anymore than-...” There was a huff; it would’ve been a bitter laughter once, but not now, not as the redhead continued. “I made a whole wreck of the place-got him here on time at least…” A sigh. “I’m-I’ll be fine, don’t worry. It just-it took  _ too goddamn long… _ ” Cerulean eyes that had been hidden by milky lids focused on them again. “What happened  _ after...? _ ”

The silence in the room was deafening, the constant drip of the IV and the machinery monitoring the man of the hour’s health exacerbating it. Surprisingly, Angeal didn’t feel any inclination to answer, didn’t feel like he had the right to answer. For some reason, it felt like this was just too much bearing on him all of a sudden. But then again, he didn’t want the burden to fall on Vincent’s shoulders. The older man had enough on his plate to process.

As it was, he let the quiet hang, like a heavy, suffocating blanket shrouding everything and everyone in the room. It didn’t seem like his childhood friend was blaming him for this, and maybe it was understood that they all needed time to process this. It was a good thing...a shared thing in the face of the severity of it all even as they waited impatiently, almost literally with bated breaths, for Sephiroth to wake up.

“Angeal…” Vincent's voice came out somewhat rough. Clearing his throat, the gunslinger continued. “Angeal asked for your lives in exchange for his.” The ex-Turk hesitated and those rubicund eyes slid uncertainly to him, as if unsure how much he should elaborate. “The goddess saw fit to heal him, and spare both of you.”

It was quite the understatement. 

Angeal understood, however, why the older man hadn't divulged the information of his immortality. They hadn't discussed whether or not it was something they wanted to share, and of course his lover was too considerate to assume. Looking at his childhood friend, the dark-haired First considered the reality before them. He didn't know how Genesis would react to his deal with the goddess...if it could really be called a deal. There was a time...long ago, when he was fairly certain the redhead would be envious of him. Loud, brash, ever-moving, ever-changeable; the Genesis of yesteryears had lived the definition of immortality to the greatest degree he was able to without veritably fitting the definition. It was-he reasoned-much different now...all of them were different. And he could tell that his childhood friend was skeptical; didn't miss the manner in which sapphire eyes focused on him with a shrewdness he knew all too well.

Angeal couldn’t hold that gaze for long, and yet he knew the moment he’d look away the redhead would know something was amiss, if he didn’t know already. Genesis had always been too smart for his own good. And it was the same brilliance, as weary and tempered down as it had become over the years and through the course of events, that asked him in a croaky tone. “What was the catch?” Keen blue irises fixed him with a scrutinizing gaze before flitting to his partner. The former General used that moment to let his head hang and reached out to hold Vincent’s hand with his own. He knew that there was no way they could get to discuss sharing or not sharing this with the duo; and with Sephiroth currently unconscious, there was no way they could-...

“-There’s always a catch. That’s hardly a deal…You know it, I know it. Why would she let me and Sephiroth get away and heal you as well?” Sanguine lips twisted in an ugly sneer. “That bitch-...”

“ _ Genesis… _ ” Raising a hand, it seemed to be enough to give his friend pause. “She made me her WEAPON.” The dark-haired First muttered quietly, at length and after a long awkward intermission.

A fiery frown edged its way onto pale features as Genesis raised his head from a deathly pale shoulder; he straightened in his seat, fingers going lax over those of the youngest of them before nearly dropping off the edge of the bed. “ _ A what? _ ”

“It doesn’t mean anything. I’m still me...I’m still Angeal, I’m not going to turn into something like Omega… I just have to protect her somehow...can’t go against her.” And still, he tried to leave the part about immortality out of it, but it was probably obvious already.

The redhead wasn’t sitting anymore; started pacing in front of them like a tiger in a gilded cage, hand flexing and unflexing at his side while a wild expression slowly crawled on the visage that had been closed off only moments ago. “I’ll kill her, I swear…” For a moment, it seemed that he seriously meant to follow through with that word, that he wanted to go for the door...that it would be any minute now that he’d either explode and burn the room down with him, or summon Rapier out of nowhere, but then...something happened. Something shifted, something that they weren’t privy to-probably related to the silver-haired man currently lying there on the cot-that made the older man slump against the far wall facing the bed, fingers plunging into fiery tresses. The redhead’s figure started folding in on itself, nearly doubled over until there was a sharp inhale. Angeal had almost risen out of his seat to try to comfort him, or try to do something, anything, but one of those lethally strong hands darted out to stop him in his tracks.

“ _ Don’t _ .” He hissed. 

The dark-haired First knew it shouldn’t hurt him because they’d just been mending their friendship… So, of course he didn’t want to see his best friend resorting to the same self-destructive means as before, but- 

“- _ Please… _ Don’t make this about me. I’m not, I just-need time! I want to be there for him, for you, let me...process it at my own pace.”

And Angeal opened his mouth to reply, but to say what, he didn’t know. He wanted to offer comfort but he’d barely processed any of it himself...barely thought through it. It was all so much at once, and he wanted to be able to reassure the older man but everything that came to his mind seemed to fall flat...seemed to lose its worth once it made its way to the tip of his tongue. And what did you say to your childhood friend who was dealing with the near-loss of his lover? Who had watched him degrade and then been forced to watch as the man he adored get stabbed through the chest? What did you say to someone who had just learned that you’d been given eternal life but eternal life bound in servitude to a possibly malevolent entity? There wasn’t any sort of comprehensible verbal recompense that could offer solace...no phraseology in the universe that could assuage the gravity of what had occurred. 

Sephiroth chose that moment to wake up. 

Specifically, he abruptly took a gasping breath and his eyes shot open as if the lids had been electrified. Vincent’s inhale was nearly as loud, but the older man got a reign on himself fairly quickly. And the long-fingered hand Genesis had been clasping flexed momentarily-almost as if grasping for something that was missing-before clenching into a loose fist and going limp again. The General in interim stared at the ceiling for a minute as if it was unduly horrifying before whipping his head in both directions...sizing up his locale. With that apparently completed, the younger man swallowed rapidly, his throat working as he attempted to reign in what seemed to be a momentary panic. And Angeal couldn’t blame him...couldn’t fault him for his discomfort considering that-as far as the silver-haired soldier was concerned-he’d been bleeding out on a cold cave floor the last time he was conscious. Still, there was something strange about the way he seemed to wake up...the manner in which his partner’s hysteria seemed to yank him from the abyss. 

“Gen,” Sephiroth muttered.  _ “Genesis”  _

The response was immediate.

Almost in a blur of crimson hair, the older man was back beside his lover, both hands coming to hold those strong digits that had twitched momentarily and bringing them to the former Commander’s visage which was hidden behind a fringe of red. There was a stuttered intake of breath and:

“ _ Seph… _ ” 

Angeal felt almost guilty for being there; would’ve wanted to leave if it weren’t for Vincent, if he was sure that his presence wasn’t needed anymore. And it wasn’t because he was uncomfortable, but because of the manner the name had been uttered. 

“ _ I’m here… I’m f-fine. _ ” Almost on the verge of breaking, affectionate and reverent in a manner that was so different from what he and his ruby-gazed lover shared.

The General was clearly in pain.

Really, the blue-eyed soldier couldn’t fathom how  _ much  _ pain he was in because he’d never exactly sustained a front to back chest wound before...but the greyish tinge to his skin...the cold sweat that broke over it...he knew what serious trauma looked like. And still the younger man’s free hand rose shakily...hovered momentarily before traversing the space between the opposite side of the bed and his childhood friend’s hair. Tremulous fingers pushed through scarlet locks from front to back...drew rubicund locks away from Genesis’ visage in a gesture that was clearly meant to be comforting. Sephiroth murmured something that wasn’t really words...more like a soft, crooning sound that was  _ absolutely  _ too private for them to bear witness to. The Banoran didn’t think that the youngest of their quartet was really cognizant that they were in the room; sensed that the General in interim’s focus was entirely on the effort it took to move and vocalize some sort of assuagement.

Even as they observed, the hand that had ascended to touch the redhead fell back on the coverlets. The entirety of Sephiroth’s body seemed to go limp with the relinquishment of intention, his limbs going still as the green-eyed First took several deep, steadying breaths. The fingers clasping Genesis’ were pale at the knuckles...but they squeezed perfunctorily regardless.

_ “...Right…”  _ Breathed more than spoken...whispered more than said. “It’s...alright.”  _ _

Vincent was ashen next to him, almost as white as a sheet but Angeal could sense his sincere relief. The former General rose to his feet, but not to draw any attention to themselves, more to be able to physically support his partner as his fingers tightened their hold around their intertwined digits. Genesis chose that exact instant to rise from the half-kneeling, half-hunched-over-the-bed pose he was in; the hands that had been clinging to Sephiroth’s rose tentatively to cradle the younger mans’ visage but just barely.

“ _ Shhh _ …” And it was a mirror to how the silver-haired General had spoken a moment ago. His childhood friend was obscuring their view of the man of the hour’s face, but it seemed he was kissing an ashen forehead. “ _ Ashayam…  _ Rest,  _ please...don’t-talk. _ ” The older man didn’t need to sob-which he did-because the way those shoulders shook for a moment was quite telling. “I’ll be here...’m not going anywhere ‘til you wake up...just sleep,  _ love _ .”

It was only then that Angeal noticed that Genesis was still wearing the same clothes as before, caked with dried blood; and while his hands, face, and hair were free of the grime and gore of their battles, it was obvious that he hadn’t left Science Department since Sephiroth had teleported them there. The dark-haired former General wanted to offer to stay in the redhead’s stead while he went and changed, possibly got a couple or so hours of sleep, but he knew that would be an exercise in futility. There was also his ruby-eyed partner… The Banoran didn’t think he had the right to suggest that the eldest of their quartet go home. It was a suggestion with the fact in mind that he knew his lover was utterly exhausted. If he were to say that Vincent had barely slept during the past several months, he wouldn’t be exaggerating. The effects were subtle-well not so subtle in the case of the dark shadows haloing those beautiful eyes-considering that he and the ebon-haired gunman were more or less constantly around one another, but they were there nonetheless. While they didn’t talk about it or mention it outright-even though his lover tried to make him believe otherwise-that didn’t really change the verity of it. And now, there was also everything they had to process, all that they had to face, make peace with, and things they had let go so they wouldn’t affect their lives any more than it did.

So, there wasn’t really much he could do, but stand there, useless, stupid, and silent, unsure of what to say or do. In the end, Vincent chose for him. Gently tugging at the younger man’s hand, the gunslinger pushed off the wall and met his eyes; red against blue...before he lifted his wrist and kissed the dark-haired First’s knuckles one by one. When the former Turk pulled away to look at him the expression on his face was that of sincere relief...but also sincere gratefulness. Behind all that was guilt...a terrible impression of guilt, and Angeal wanted to say something...to reassure his partner that this was the choice that he’d wanted...but it  _ wasn’t  _ the choice he’d wanted. He was happy to save Sephiroth and equally happy to save Genesis but immortality had never been his vein of approach, and neither had being a WEAPON. Somewhat sadly, the former General wondered how it was possible to live a life where so many of your choices seemed to be made for you...with methods that weren’t cohesive with your own intent.

“Why don’t we let Eirene look at you?” was the murmured query. “See what needs to be done to get you back on your feet again.” Vincent seemed to pause and reconsider his statement. “On your feet without the decoratives.” Slender fingers nudged the blue-eyed First’s cane, a slightly playful smile blooming over sanguine lips. “Not that you don’t look irresistibly sophisticated with it, I’m just sure you’re sick of it.” He was trying to bring levity to the situation. For a moment, Angeal wanted to grab Vincent and kiss him senseless because despite his terrible social awkwardness he could be very adorable. Despite his clear exhaustion and his obvious worry, he was trying to make him smile and it  _ did  _ make him smile while a sweet, soft feeling grew in his chest. When the dark-haired Soldier opened his mouth to protest...to insist they just go home...pale digits nudged his jaw. “It’ll make me feel better.” When the Banoran gave the older man a look that plainly stated that his lover was  _ not  _ playing fair he received a sheepish sort of smile. “Just to give you some incentive.” 

“ _ Get a room… _ ” was the faint whisper as the silver-haired man groaned somewhat. “ _ This one’s occupied… ‘M tryin to sleep. _ ” And Genesis finally seemed to have had enough of nuzzling Sephiroth’s head; pulled back with a tremulous laugh and red-rimmed eyes, again, to reveal the man of the hour smiling a wan, weary smile. 

And somehow, despite everything that had happened, seeing his friend’s face, softened somewhat with a tempered weary semblance of happiness, was enough. Really, that they were going to survive this, all four of them-as scarred and exhausted as they were-was enough...because time would heal everything, or so Angeal believed. 

And Vincent…the owner of those beautiful, red irises he so cherished had told him that he wanted to be with him. That gave him something to look forward to, to push through what was yet to come, because this was just the beginning of a beginning.


	22. Chapter Twenty

Why did it have to be him?

Sitting in the downstairs bar looking at the amber-colored liquid in his glass, Sephiroth tried to dispel the sense of quiet indignance that shivered through his bones. He’d done much the same on the hilltop...watched the dusty retreat of the truck with a kind of quiet inner resistance that felt like it was coming somewhere ugly and weak in his soul. He hadn’t wanted to be left behind with what remained of his former comrade...hadn’t wanted to wait for Eirene to come back to call the time of death. To wait and call the mortician so they could move Angeal’s body. Because while he presented a taciturn and unshakeable figure the reality of it was that it was the only thing keeping him upright...his stoicism. And he knew he’d fallen back on Hojo’s doctrine:  _ ‘don’t think, don’t feel, don’t care’... _ but it was the only thing that he could do...the only thing that kept him from running away entirely. He sat alone on a grassy knoll...watching as dawn poked its rays over the hills with a kind of bitter resentment that ate at him like a dog gnawing on a bone. 

At the same time, he knew it was the best option available to them.

Vincent’s reaction to Angeal’s death was so strong it had promptly terrified him half out of his wits. Sephiroth knew what it was like to miss a loved one...to acknowledge their death. He knew that bottomless well of terrible emptiness that came from being left bereft but he hadn’t expected  _ this.  _ He hadn’t expected his father to crumble into so much nothingness when the former General had stopped breathing...hadn’t expected the wail that fell from his lips...the heart wrenching sound that was not-unlike his soul being ripped from his body. He hadn’t grieved like that over Genesis. Sephiroth had taken his grief and made it  _ rage  _ and seeing it so differently was a mind-bending thing that left him feeling helpless. And he knew that his father’s relationship with the younger man was different than his relationship. There was more tenderness...more of a balance. And Angeal had cradled Vincent so close...treated him with such careful warmth that there had been times when he’d scornfully reflected that the gunslinger was utterly spoiled.

He was wrong.

Swallowing, the silver-haired man knocked back his drink and gestured for another. He didn’t want to incapacitate himself, but he knew he needed the fortitude to deal with whatever was waiting for him upstairs. Catching the glass that was slid to him he took another few minutes to reflect. He’d been wrong. Angeal treated Vincent with such thorough fragility because he  _ was  _ fragile...in a sense. Because Vincent had never known love or tenderness in the shape that the younger man brought it in. Both of them were deeply passionate individuals with good hearts. Combined...their focus was so cohesive they were practically a merged consciousness. And he’d always sneered at it a little bit because it was so beautiful it was sometimes sickening. Sickening in a way something pure and true could only be sickening. And there was a part of him that rebelled fiercely against that concept of love...against that thorough devotion because he didn’t really believe in it. He had a hard time believing that such love could be born with so little pain...with so little effort. He and Genesis had worked tirelessly to get where they were now...had fought bitterly...hatefully and it was hard to picture something like that growing in a space where no hatred had come before.

Angeal’s death was a physical thing. 

Physical in the sense that it was an existential retreat…an egress. He hadn’t been able to watch him die...hadn’t been able to stay close. Sephiroth wasn’t used to voluntary death. The very concept of it was foreign to him. He’d spent the majority of his life preserving his own life...preserving the lives of his men. And he wasn’t the type to think of longevity as a precious thing...but it wasn’t something given away freely. It was one of the reasons he’d been so  _ angry  _ with Genesis for bringing it up...for mentioning it when it should have been something Angeal would mention. The crassness of it, the utter dismissal of the individual who he’d been speaking to’s feelings. It was the first time he’d been truly angry at Genesis on a deeply disappointed level...on a level that was purely shame and nothing else. And  _ he  _ was ashamed for feeling something like that but the look on Vincent’s face had made him want to grab the redhead and shake him because you didn’t  _ say something like that to someone.  _ And the fact that Vincent hadn’t told Angeal made it worse...made it a painful thing but he didn’t  _ blame  _ Genesis...he just wanted to forget it all.

He downed his second drink.

It didn’t matter.

_ It didn’t matter.  _ They’d talked about it...and the details of it were irrelevant...the delivery was irrelevant...Angeal was still dead. And he’d been left on a hilltop to call the morgue, to call into HQ and tell Reeve the news. The President of Shinra had been silent on the other line for a solid three minutes before he muttered a choked affirmative and hung up. The silver-haired soldier had stood there staring at the cellular device listening to the dial tone wondering what his life had come to. And the men who’d come to take Angeal’s body away had murmured condolences, like he could possibly understand them...like they would make him feel better when he felt hollow. Angeal had been kind to him over the half a year while Vincent was asleep and Genesis was absent. He had  _ kissed  _ Angeal and somehow he now felt grateful for it rather than ashamed of it...because surely Angeal didn’t kiss idly...surely he didn’t give affection where it wasn’t warranted. And he didn’t think of the blue-eyed First in a romantic sense, but he of all people was aware of the significance of physical gesture.

Sephiroth didn’t know how to grieve. 

His grieving process was twisted and wrought in darkness...it was that or he ignored it entirely. Right now, he couldn’t afford to fall to pieces...couldn’t afford to feel anything. There were too many people that needed him. He was-intimately-aware of the fact that once Vincent was taken care of Genesis would be a wreck. Enough of loss...enough of grief and it was selfish which was why he was sitting there drinking instead of comforting his lover. Because if he wasn’t numb he wouldn’t be able to communicate properly, wouldn’t be able to circumvent his stunted nature to be a supportive partner because no one had taught him how to sympathize. He’d cleared away all remnants of their time on the hill and walked back while the sun rose...while the world woke up around him. Ignoring the looks at the town square he’d come back and sequestered himself at the bar because he was a coward and he didn’t know how to grieve. 

The events of the day were a twisted muddle...a dark maelstrom of holding in and compartmentalizing and filing everything away in order to be present. He felt like he was holding onto himself so poorly that he was going to melt into something terrible and awful on the floor for the cleaning staff to mop up. Because what kind of  _ friend  _ was he? What kind of son was he? What kind of lover? He barely knew who he was himself and Angeal had helped him define that so calmly and patiently and now that he was gone it felt like every scrap of gentle tutelage he’d offered was in tatters. Like he’d brought himself about to be someone better,  _ a little bit  _ better only to have that definition smashed into dust. And he knew that his former comrade would tell him that it wasn’t true...but it was hard to think objectively when you’d effectively sent one of your second-in-commands off to be cremated. Looking downward, the green-eyed Soldier exhaled explosively. His third glass was empty and he was feeling numb enough to be brave.

It was time to go.

Standing, Sephiroth waited a moment to find his feet. This wasn’t so much to do with how much he’d imbibed as it was about reluctance. Because he first had to go to his father’s rooms and he was sincerely dreading what he was going to find there. All signs had pointed to the fact that Vincent was likely to kill himself and if he was going to have to find his sire in a lifeless heap he wanted to at least have his head on somewhat straight. It took him longer to get to the stairs...to put one foot in front of the other until he’d traversed them to reach the landing. Palming the key he’d found in Angeal’s pocket, he unlocked the door and stepped inside only to find it empty. For a moment...he was  _ more  _ afraid because a part of his mind hysterically insisted that Vincent had left. Where he would have gone he didn’t know but he didn’t like to consider it all the same. Thankfully, logic won over before total insanity and he came to the concrete conclusion that Genesis must have forced the older man to stay with him. 

It made sense, really. Because even though the redhead was grieving, he would have wanted to make sure that Vincent didn’t do anything permanent. He was too tired and a little too numb to be grateful but he was relieved. Swiping a hand over his lips, the silver-haired man turned and exited back onto the landing to cross over to the entryway to their rooms. Once there, he stared at the door for several minutes while he fought the urge to go back downstairs and drink himself to ruins. He was fairly sure that if things continued in this manner he was going to be a serial alcoholic and that wasn’t kind or considerate to anyone around him. Right now..he was needed here. He needed to put his own emotionalism to the side like he had with Vincent and deal with what surrounded him because he could not be permitted the emotionalism that was eating at him. Nothing good would come of it. And if he had to be the first one to let go...then so be it.

Gritting his teeth, Sephiroth drew the key from his pocket and fit it in the latching mechanism...listening to the tell-tale  ** _*click* _ ** before turning the knob and pushing it open and stepping inside.

* * *

Genesis Rhapsodos hadn’t cried so much in his life. At least not since his childhood and early adolescent years.

He tried to tell himself that he was exaggerating, that he’d probably cried over Sephiroth’s  _ ‘deaths’ _ more than he had for Angeal, but that would probably be a blatant lie.

Why?

_ Of course, he’d go for the analyzation approach…  _

_ Because when Angeal and Vincent had told him about Sephiroth’s death after he’d resurfaced back in Midgar from Deepground, he’d felt an already bleeding, broken, and beaten part of him crawling like a mangled piece of flesh against the existential bottom. But at the same time, G had been a much more dominant facet of his personality back then; hell-bent on revenge, on needless death and destruction, focused on finding an outlet for this endless well of rage. And even then, when he’d resurfaced from the dark waters of schism, he’d tried to mourn his ‘deceased’ ex-lover’s death despite all the bad blood that had been flowing in rivers between them. He’d drunk himself in a miserable corner of Angeal’s apartment until he’d lost consciousness; had tried to kill himself by overdosing with mako, and then attempted-albeit unsuccessfully-to beat the crap out of the dark-haired soldier and his lover. _

The memory of that, of what had happened, had salinity trailing down his face.

Now, all he had of Angeal were memories. The memory of how those kind hands had always been there to catch him whenever he’d fallen; of those helping hands that hoisted him back up on his feet, mentally, figuratively, and literally. How the individual behind them had always been understanding,  _ always _ , even when their beliefs, even when whatever Genesis had been doing didn’t sit well with his childhood friend… And now, he had no one to rely on, not in the fashion he’d always depended on the dark-haired First.

And maybe it wasn’t really a healthy thing to do, to force himself to take every iridescent shard of glass that reflected one of their memories together; to relive those moments, to look into the fragments of the stained glass that  _ had been  _ the beautiful individual he’d called his best friend...because now, that masterpiece of a human was shattered...shattered to so many tiny pieces. And no matter whatever Genesis did, no matter how hard he tried to collect the fine glass dust so he could put it back together, he only ended up giving himself scrapes, ended up getting miniscule shards under his skin…

With every memory relived, he’d cried, he’d smiled, and then cried some more.

It was hard.

Sometimes, they were quiet tears. Sometimes, the anguish was so excruciating that he had trouble breathing, that he choked; that he had to keep quiet whenever his lungs and throat decided to accommodate him, and he had to temper the sharp, ragged exhale into something silent, because the devastated lover of the man he was bawling his eyes out over was asleep less than thirty feet away from him. And Genesis was glad that Vincent was asleep...glad that whatever Sephiroth was doing was taking the youngest of them so long...because at this point, he was a very,  _ very _ horrendous and haggard looking Genesis Rhapsodos; and apart from appearances, his lover had enough on his hands taking care of Angeal’s posthumous affairs, taking care of his father, and dealing with whatever he was feeling in his long-winded, complex mental-compartmentalization processes. 

At one point, it had been so hard he’d been tempted to cast sleep on Vincent and scream himself hoarse into a pillow. Or maybe even go to the shower and breakdown there so he could sluice down the drain, or even drown in the puddle-or even  _ lake _ -of his own tears.

His running out of cigarettes hadn’t helped his situation either. Which, again, had made him want to cast sleep on the eldest of them so he wouldn’t wake up and do something stupid-...though Genesis wholly understood the gunslinger’s reason if he wanted to do something like that-and really it wasn’t stupid-but the former Commander didn’t think the silver-haired First would be able to handle his father’s death right after Angeal’s; and it would be such a ruinous, disastrous thing… Anyway, he’d wanted to do that so he could go buy himself a dozen packs, or even a dozen bottles of alcohol so he could drown his sorrows. But, he’d found that he couldn’t bring himself to use the same magic he’d used to put Angeal to sleep with again, so soon… He’d tried telling himself that it shouldn’t and wouldn’t affect his inclination to use magic, but his mind was currently a mess, and so, he’d discarded the thought for later procession. 

And really, not only his mind, but the entirety of his being was a mess, and not even a gorgeous one at the moment. 

He felt absolutely drained as he proceeded to sit down and stare dumbly at one point on the wall or other various points around their room. He was certain somehow that his irises were boring holes in them. A guess at his visage was something with puffy and red eyes, definitely a red face, and saline tracks on his cheeks that made his skin feel taut in some places. But he didn’t think he could move from where he was hugging his knees on the chair.

There had been several other Genesis Rhapsodoses around the room as he’d contemplated how to deal with Angeal’s death until Sephiroth arrived. Contradictorily, he was waiting impatiently for his lover to come back, and also dreading it at the same time.

_ Sephiroth’s second ‘death’, he’d dealt with very differently. It had taken him a whole year to finally come to terms with, and he’d been waiting...waiting for the news to come from Midgar...waiting for the guillotine to drop. He didn’t know how he’d have continued on if Sephiroth hadn’t been there on the TV screen that day. Probably devoid of himself as he had been; someone domesticated, living quietly in the countryside…waiting for Tanaka’s deaths, waiting to wander the world for the rest of his life in search for a home to belong to when it would have been buried six feet under the ground.  _

_ Wishing for death as he’d fared the aftermath of his second cold-turkey withdrawal of mako being an unrecognizable wreck for who-knows-how-long had been there. Before that, before he’d surfaced in Mideel, he’d been following his usual pattern of bringing death and destruction and also self-annihilation. Really, Gaia was lucky that Omega was there for him to focus on the calamitous amount of power Jenova had bestowed him with. While it had been an attempt at suicide, he’d survived somehow, like he’d survived Hojo’s putting a bullet in his chest, and degradation.  _

He couldn’t go on a rampage now without tearing his relationship with Sephiroth to irreparable tatters; not because his lover wouldn’t understand why he’d done such a thing, but because then he’d be a wanted man...constantly hunted down by Shinra...and his silver-haired partner couldn’t follow him around because Vincent needed peace, and that way they’d be in a constant state of upheaval. Genesis was positive that if the green-eyed man denied him again were he to propose that they run away together, they wouldn’t survive it… At least, he wouldn’t survive it with his sanity intact especially given the current circumstances. So that option was out of the window. One Genesis Rhapsodos gone.

There was also the desire to fly away. To be gone, to vanish from the face of Gaia for sometime. The desire had been almost impossible to repress when he’d extended his wing over the hill to envelope his lover’s sire in a commiserating-strangely and astoundingly-sympathetic embrace. It had been intimate, and at the same time, not impinging on the older man’s personal space while not sharing too much as well. But then again, where would he have gone...and then again, he couldn’t do that. Couldn’t leave Sephiroth alone to deal with Vincent on his own...he’d promised that he wasn’t going anywhere. And while he’d broken that concept so thoroughly that he wasn’t quite sure why the youngest of them still bothered with him, he wasn’t going to be a coward and back out from this. Another Genesis Rhapsodos vanished.

His past self, the redhead from all those years ago would have probably found himself a hovel and engaged in as many promiscuous fornications as he could until he barely had the energy to leave. He would have wallowed in a well of misery, self-loathing, and worthlessness instead ‘til he could hit the rock bottom and start working his way up again...but he’d be  _ alone _ this time. Because there would be no Angeal to fall back onto. That aside, just thinking about expecting his partner to be forgiving and understanding of his fucked-up ways in dealing with his emotions, especially when they’d never talked about this subject, made him feel so horrible that he wanted to stab himself in the gut with Rapier. Off with another Genesis Rhapsodos.

The drunken stupor option and the smoking himself until he couldn’t breathe option, too, had already been off the table. Two more gone.

There was also another alternative, and why it was taking Sephiroth so damn long, he didn’t know. He could drag the silver-haired General to the bathroom, cling to him like some needy bitch...force himself onto him in an attempt to forget, to get his mind elsewhere, to distract and fool himself… but even the thought of it made him feel sick… To even have thought about such an alternative…Genesis was sure he wouldn’t be able to follow through with it…he’d probably end up sobbing and crying just as gracelessly as he had so far…probably wail against a broad chest and then fall onto his knees, and  _ no. _ He could also drag the silver-haired man to spar together somewhere, to work it out of their systems that way, but then again there was Vincent…

Devastated Vincent. Ruined Vincent.

The former Commander didn’t, couldn’t stomach the feelings he felt for the raven-haired man currently clutching Angeal’s shirt like it was a lifeline. And that was also a part of the problem, because he’d been feeling so many things these past several days that he was overwhelmed by them; floundering in an ocean, and he kept going under, drinking salt water only to come up briefly for air just to gulp down more, to breath more salinity. The whole affair with dumbapples had nearly brought him to his knees. Then they’d said their ‘goodbye’s...the star of service, and  _ why had Sephiroth’s sire covered up for him…? _

He’d almost wanted to burn himself with cigarette butts...to go to the bathroom and self-harm until he didn’t feel anything anymore...until all the emotions he was feeling so acutely would run in rivulets out of his system...to slough red down the drain… But Sephiroth didn’t, shouldn’t have to deal with him on top of everything. 

So, he’d had no choice, no way out, but to cry…until he was so exhausted emotionally and physically that he couldn’t feel anymore…until he was numb… He sat there for however long it took, blinking slowly in the darkness with a vacant look on his face until there was the sound of a key turning inside the lock. Slow. Quiet, so as not to wake anyone who might be sleeping inside. 

And then, there he was.

Sephiroth.

As his lover closed the door behind him, Genesis quickly glanced at the aforementioned man’s sire and realized that was probably the most animated gesture he’d made for the past who-knows-how-many-hours. Dimly, he was aware that it wasn’t night anymore, but frankly he didn’t care as he gestured toward the bathroom because now that the General was back, he could hear if his father so much as flinched in their rooms even if they’d sequestered themselves in the smaller tiled space. 

Uncurling from the ball he’d made himself into felt like he was breaking every bone in his body and then having them mend on their own. When he rose from his seat, he had to grip the back of his chair as the world spun dangerously around him; steadying himself there and just as hastily raising a hand toward his partner-who’d motioned to take a detour to come to his aid-Genesis tried to tell him non-verbally that he was alright, that he just needed a moment.

Making their way inside the enclosed space in front of the younger man, he was distinctly aware of the fingers holding onto his elbow as Sephiroth closed the door behind them. Somewhere inside him, there was an inclination that made him want to just sag backwards and into a strong chest, but with an iron fist he crushed it out of existence; chased away its remnants until they were nothing but smithereens flying away with the wind. 

Turning, Genesis faced his partner. And they were so near, near enough that they were almost chest to chest; those fingers were still holding onto his elbow-now both his elbows-as they always did affectionately, but now it was also a grounding gesture. In a way that his partner was telling him that he was there, but so was he...and he wanted to be there for Sephiroth. Had always wanted to be there for him...even for that small boy in the labs.

There was alcohol on his lover’s breath just as ash and tobacco smoke was on his, and while the former Commander was positive his partner didn’t look as awful as he-not in the slightest-they were both wrecks. Maybe the younger man even more; because for these past several days, he’d been going out of his way to be there for the ebon-haired gunslinger. And it wasn’t what Sephiroth was accustomed to, he knew that, the silver-haired man knew that, even Vincent and Angeal knew that, and now Angeal was gone. And here they were, both of them steeling themselves to care for one another and for the eldest of them who was crumbling to pieces...who had been since the day he had come to them with the news of the dark-haired First’s degradation, and even before that, when they had found out about it…

Raising his hand, his trembling hand, to the magnificent slope of his lover’s cheek, Genesis let his cerulean irises roam over the visage in front of him...quiet, memorizing it for the umpteenth time. Sephiroth echoed the gesture, though with both hands...let his thumbs trace his jawbone before framing his face...fingers sinking into his hair. The silver haired soldier bent his head until their foreheads were pressed together...until his vision was partially filled with half-lidded, slightly bleary emerald eyes. He felt himself exhale...and when he did his partner echoed him...mouth parting slightly, though not in a desirous manner. The older man could just-barely hear the soft melody of their heartbeats...and for a second, he was reminded of another heartbeat...going faster, faster, faster until- _ no.  _ And it was Sephiroth that pressed closer, who let one palm leave his cheek to gently grasp his waist until they were flush against each other. Again, not a suggestive movement, merely a comforting nearness. Touch like an iron brand at the small of his back...gripping his shirt reflexively before letting go. 

_ “Gen..” _

Rough...low...hoarse with disuse but still familiar. And they’d backed up enough that he’d hit the sink...that there wasn’t anywhere further to go. The hand still on his cheek was unsteady...somewhat wavering. It seemed to take the younger man a monumental effort to steady himself but he did. Sephiroth braced himself against the sink with the palm at their backs and it was a little bit like being poised on the edge of something...though he was too strung out to know what it was. Silver brows were furrowed now...platinum lashes dusting pale cheeks and he recognized it as a restraintive gesture...as a method of compartmentalization. It was somewhat obvious that neither of them were entirely  _ ‘all there’  _ but they were together and that had to count for something. Cold lips against his brow and he fought off a shiver. Sephiroth’s remaining hand fell to encircle him, to draw him nearer...to halo him in an embrace.

_ “Genesis.”  _

And it felt a bit like falling apart inside...like Sephiroth’s voice was chipping away at his resolve to keep himself together so he could be there for his lover. And Genesis wanted to shush him gently, perfunctorily, be it with a finger or with his lips; at the same time, he wanted to ask the younger man to talk to him, to uncork that bottle he’d poured all his emotions inside which he was going to cast to the sea of rationality and stoicism, to share it with him instead… Because it was what Sephiroth had done all his life, and the redheaded former Commander couldn’t be a judge for that but…

“ _ I’m here now. _ ” His voice was thick, almost raspy and hoarse from disuse and the smoke he’d inhaled. “ _ I’m here for you. _ ” Whispering didn’t make it any better, in fact it made it worse, but he had to go on. He had to get these words out before his bravado could give out. “ _ If you want to talk to me, I’m here; if you don’t want to, I’m still not going anywhere. _ ” A pause and he nestled his head against the side of a pale throat, hidden behind a veil of silver that fell over Sephiroth’s shoulder… And it was comfort; it was a strange, still kind of peacefulness that he was feeling, that was brushing against the shores of his consciousness like the gentle glistening lap of water against shore. Warmth, and he shivered again. “ _ I’m not going anywhere. _ ” He repeated. “ _ I’m standing beside you. You don’t have to be strong for me. _ ”

So much of their exchanges revolved around physicality. Genesis reflected on this as his partner’s forehead left his to slump against his shoulder while fingers came up to cup the back of his head. Silver hair engulfed the left side of his body as his lover swayed slightly before going still once more. Without really thinking about it, the blue-eyed ex-First did the same, buried his face in the column of the side of that pearly throat and inhaled. He couldn’t exactly call the nearness comforting...not in the sense that it tempered his grief any, but it was something that he craved and evidently, something that his partner craved. There was a placidity to inaction...to the careful and reciprocative stasis between them. Bitterly, he reflected that this would never happen between Vincent and Angeal again. They could never seek solace in each other again and he felt almost  _ heinous  _ doing it for himself. At the same time he was doing it for the individual before him just as much, and that was the only thing that kept him from rejecting the gesture. 

“He was yours first,” was the quiet reply. “Your friend.” A huff and he felt the hair under his ear flutter. “Your  _ only  _ friend for so long.” Sephiroth swallowed thickly. “M’not...processing this very well right now, and I know I don’t always come off as comforting...but you need to let me love you a little.” Another shift, a palm rubbing his back. “You don’t have to take care of me right now...let me take care of you.” 

A brief laugh, and he could feel moisture burning in his eyes. Maybe that was why his laugh felt more like crying, but he reigned himself in. He had to persevere,  _ he had to _ . His hands that had been encircling his lover’s strong physicality tightened infinitesimally as the sound died between them; a candle snuffed out. And he couldn’t do this...couldn’t go down this road, not now. “I think I’m not processing this at all, so you’re still doing a far better job than I am… Truly.” Pulling back just so he could see those green eyes he loved so much, Genesis continued. “I admire you…I  _ adore  _ you.” And a corner of his lip curled downwards of its own accord, and he brought his hand forward to let his fingers dive in the waterfall of moonspun tresses, brushing them as he gazed at his partner’s beautifully haggard face. Because, however unfairly, the younger man was still gorgeous, even at his lowest and darkest moments. “Thank you, I love you… But I  _ can’t _ .” And his voice broke almost over the last word, and yet he had to go on. “ _ I can’t Seph… I can’t, _ ” A steadying loud inhale. “Because if I do, it’s gonna be ugly and disastrous, and I can’t.” If the sink wasn’t digging into his back he’d have pulled away, if he didn’t know that Sephiroth needed their nearness just as much as he did, he’d have pulled away. But he didn’t. Couldn’t. “Let me care for you now,” And his voice dropped to an almost inaudible low as he finished. “ _ I’ll crumble later. _ ”

It seemed to take the younger man a moment to process his statement. 

“Genesis,” Sephiroth said finally, blinking hard. “Thank you. And I love you too, I’m a little bit…” a vague wave of the hand. “I’m a little….” His lover frowned. “Removed, from all of this.” The younger man sighed. “We process these things...differently...you and I.” The General in interim bit his lip. “When I thought you were dead...he taught me to look ahead and think of what the person who...left would want for me. And I know he would want me to be here, for you.” An exhale. “I’m-going to  _ honor  _ his memory by doing the right thing. By you and by Vincent. This isn't about me, it’s never going to be about me. When you ‘died’...once and then twice...at this point... things like this... people dying... breaking...you learn to survive it because you’re used to it. So don't worry about me.”

Well, that at least took one thing off of the plate Sephiroth had his hands full with. But then again, his lover was  _ drunk, _ and it was entirely possible that his feelings were going to come back to him later when he wasn’t inebriated. Regardless, what he was worried about was Sephiroth giving and giving, and Vincent taking and taking… Because that’s what Genesis had always done in his life, and he was worried, couldn’t stop being worried. Maybe it was a false fear; maybe his lover had suddenly matured to the point of becoming yet another Angeal, talking about honor and everything. And it was painful to hear that fucking word again...to hear about what his lover and his best friend had been doing when he was  _ fucking  _ mourning,  _ fucking absent,  _ waiting for-... 

It wasn’t really a surprise that the first thing he was turning toward was rage and anger; but then again, that was not something he could afford to do at the moment. Later. Later. 

A part of him scoffed at how he was being a hypocrite, betraying his own motto, but… 

“You just worry about Vincent.” A pat on the younger man’s shoulder as he slowly but surely extricated himself from between the lithe body in front of him and the sink. “I don’t know if it’s my place, but I want to help you take care of him too.” A pause, and he looked down. “I don’t know if I’m the right person for the job, but I’m gonna try. For Angeal and for you, and also for him.” Curling his hand around a bicep, he nodded toward the door. “Let’s go to bed, I think we could all use some sleep.”

“Genesis,” Sephiroth's voice was slightly sharper. Turning back and feeling entirely fed up with it all, the redhead waited. Green eyes bored into him as if searching for something as his lover opened his mouth. Whatever he was looking for, something hopeless and resigned flashed across aquiline features. Moving toward him, the younger man scrubbed a hand across his face as he waited for him to exit first. “I don't know why it's so disappointing that you don't need to save me,” was the dull comment. “You were my worst loss. Nothing is going to trump that. You’re the love of my life and...he was a friend, Vincent is my father, but he's not been my father that long. I don't need his love or his coddling to take care of him. I'd appreciate your help, of course, hopefully in time he will too,” A shake or a silver head. “You go ahead and sleep, if you want to. I'm going to go downstairs and..” Those features went abruptly blank. “...Call Lazard.” 

Genesis felt if he didn’t exit the room right now, he was going to do exactly all those things he’d been trying his damnedest not to do. One thing he could acknowledge for sure was that he hated drunk Sephiroth. And it was infuriating that the situation they were stuck in was somehow comical because no, he didn’t find Sephiroth attractive and handsome at all at the moment. He was accosted with an urge to punch the younger man in the nose just so he could feel better. And maybe they could squabble in the bathroom- _ oh how fun that’d be _ -and  _ now  _ that was definitely beautiful: he and a drunk Sephiroth grappling with each other in the tub. Well, his partner seemed to do an amazing job at riling him up, and the redhead wasn’t going to back down from it because that was just how good they were at pushing each other’s buttons.

Stepping into the younger man’s personal space further, the former Commander cocked his head and let his voice drop to a hiss because otherwise he was going to raise it, and that was the last thing either of them wanted. “I’m not disappointed that I don’t need to save you because there’s nothing that you need to be saved from.” A pause. “But let me spell it out for you. I’m trying to save my relationship with you, and maybe it’s from myself, but then so be it.” Suddenly he remembered the fight they had before the whole-..._scrap that_. It was irrelevant. Focusing on the present, he continued; and if it was harsh, cruel, and wholly counterproductive to all the things he’d prepared himself for, then _fuck it._ “You don’t know what you’re asking for, so let me make it clear for you Sephiroth. It’s not devastating enough for me to try and raze the world to the ground. But if I let go, I’m going to Banora’s only whorehouse and sleep with every single person I can find… And we haven’t really talked about that, so no, then I’m going to cut myself and be miserable and drunk and force you to fuck me like that night at the Rhapsodoses.” And it didn’t make him feel better to utter these words, it made him hate himself thoroughly and utterly. “I’m going to run away from this like I ran away from your death, but I’ve promised you that I’d stay and I’m not rescinding what I said about wanting to take care of Vincent with you. So you see, this is what I’m trying to save _us _from, save our relationship from. So you go call your Lazard and I’m going to go fuck myself.”

Sephiroth was looking at Genesis like he had no idea who he was. Pale fingers twitched slightly, then fell listless at the younger man's sides. The line of his former comrade’s jaw clenched and then unclenched before he abruptly looked to the left and then down, his hair sliding forward to cover his visage. For a few moments, the silence was deafening...it seemed to bloom between them, like a large invisible forcefield buzzing with a vague, stolid energy. Then, Sephiroth laughed. And like other times they had fought in the past, it wasn’t really a laugh...but it wasn’t an ugly, derisive laugh either. The younger man’s ‘mirth’ seemed to be borne on the wings of a breathless, self-deprecating kind of pain mixed with disbelief. There was the flash of pearly white teeth beneath that curtain of hair before the General in interim slumped against the wall and promptly slid down it to the floor. Again, there was a stretch of wordless chronology...a spinning, writhing aperture of suspended and taciturn interval. 

“I’m not asking anything of you,” was the flat reply as slim digits pushed silver locks from a blank visage...up over the forehead and back. “That’s where you’re missing the point. I’m...appreciative of your offer for comfort...but I don’t require it. And I’m not forcing  _ my  _ comfort on you either.” Green eyes narrowed somewhat as long legs were drawn upward so a pair of arms could wrap around the knees. Tilting his head, Sephiroth rested his cheek on his patella; this time, the curve of his lips was almost a grimace. “Just...do whatever you need to do, Genesis,” was the bitter continuation. “For the record, by  _ ‘calling Lazard’  _ I meant  _ ‘get absolutely shitfaced’. _ ”

A pause and a considering look traversed the silver-haired man’s features. 

Straightening, the younger man seemed to almost freeze for a moment before he was suddenly mobile again, rising and fixing Genesis with a mutinous look. 

“No,” he snapped. “No. I understand you’re upset but you don’t get to emotionally manhandle me because of it. HQ is going to be a wreck when I get back, I’m going to have to arrange a parade Angeal would never want and I’m going to have to worry about my father jumping off the landing pad. He’s not going to be the same for years...maybe not ever. Vincent isn’t like you or me, he doesn’t have...rage or a sex drive or lack of coherent thought to channel his grief into. He’s going to implode, and I have no idea how to manage that. I’m in a position I never asked for in a company I despise and now I have no clue who’s going to replace me.” Reaching into his pocket, Sephiroth drew out his gloves and smacked the redhead’s arm with them before pulling them on. “So, here’s the deal Genesis. You can go and spread the legs of however many painted strumpets you want, spread yours for however many inamoratos you want, through however many whorehouses you want and do however many self-destructive things you like to get this out of your system.” A silver brow was raised in an unimpressed manner. “Whatever balances the scales. After that, we can go to a field and spar this out. Or we can do it now. But this needs to come out in one way or another.” 

When Genesis curled his hands around the pale column of Sephiroth’s throat, he really had no other choice. There was an urge to fall back, backwards and slump like his lover had had moments ago against the wall-or rather inside the tub-but he’d pushed it aside without much rumination. Long, strong fingers encircled his wrists even though he wasn’t putting any pressure behind his grip on the younger man’s neck; and those deadly hands didn’t wrench his away, not yet, at least. The former Commander wanted to smile, understandingly, reassuringly, affectionately, but instead his lips curved downwards. He wanted to brush his palm against the side of that pale face, but instead his fingers twitched, and he had to relax them.

Sephiroth’s words hurt, but he’d brought it upon himself, he might as well take responsibility for it. Letting it slide, the redhead began. “I just want to help,” It came out as a broken hiss. “Let me help Sephiroth, I-I don’t,” And there was a burning sensation in his eyes, but he didn’t focus on it; pushed the taunts that had been thrown his way in his more youthful years down and continued on instead. “I’m not a fucking crybaby.” Genesis wished he could have more control on his lacrimal glands because _now was not the fucking _**_time _**_for crying!_ He wasn’t sad, he was **angry**, and _people don’t shed tears when they were so fucking furious they could blow up Banora off the face of the planet!_ “You just give and give and give, and no one seems to see that, Sephiroth, I don’t-I don’t claim to be the best in terms of appreciating,” _Breathe!_ “_You._” The older man choked. “But I’m trying-I could come back,” _Publicly, in the parade, _he wanted to add. “Throw HQ in-into more of wreck due to more unforeseen changes in chain of Command,” _This isn’t making any sense!_ And yet, he continued on. “I could be your Commander, your General in interim,” _Whatever you want, anything! _“I planned a parade when I was your second-in-command, I could do it again! Use Vincent as an excuse! Just let me do something!” And with that he pressed his forehead against his lover’s and squeezed that magnificent neck; felt his eyes flutter closed as Sephiroth’s hands gripped his wrists tighter. “There are no scales Seph, we can spar whenever it helps you,” A pause that dragged onwards as he listened to the melody of his partner’s labored breaths, felt himself calm down a little and come down slightly from the heights of his hysteria. _Whenever you want,_ he wanted to say; and maybe he did, but no voice came out of his mouth. And Genesis wanted to wring that strong throat because-he acknowledged-that was the only way he could exercise some form of control in a situation that was fast spiraling out of his control. “Not trying to manhandle your emotions, love.” He finally whispered, hoarse, against the smooth epidermis of the corner of Sephiroth’s mouth. “_That’s where you’re missing the point._” The former Commander echoed, voice low as he pressed his lips against those of the younger man.

Sephiroth’s response was immediate and a little surprising considering that he’d just given him permission to essentially sleep his way across Gaia and damn the consequences. The younger man breathed in deep through his nose and returned the gesture despite the fact that the redhead’s hands were still encircling his throat. His mouth was a little dry, a little tentative in its approach but the intent was clear, the acquiescence was clear. And he could feel the way the General in interim shivered in a manner that wasn’t entirely desirous; like touch was as much an emotional release as a physical one. It was enough to make him still for a moment because despite the fact that they both were communicable in this fashion as well, it didn’t change the fact that there were still unspoken words between them. But Sephiroth’s advances at this point were a little desperate; a little uncoordinated which was saying a lot considering who exactly he was. Slightly-rapid, close-mouthed kisses on the corners of his lips, dragging in that infinitesimal way over lower vermillion as his partner kept it chaste but at the same time beseeching. 

“I don’t need you to be anything you normally wouldn’t be,” was the slightly ragged reply. Fingers snaked into his hair as Sephiroth paused to speak, breath brushing across his lips. “This isn’t-” another kiss. “ _ - _ About recognition. I’m not an infant either, Genesis. I don’t need that sort of thing. I don’t want it. I’ve been lauded enough to last me a hundred lifetimes.” An unsteady exhale. “I just want to get through this, and come out on the other end intact,  _ with you.”  _ That lithe body pressed up against him, cerise lips parted. “Maybe we could focus on one day at a time. Worry about what comes after when it comes.” 

He couldn’t help but agree with Sephiroth, but it seemed that they’d finally run their resources of words dry. It was his turn to express his acquiescence by mouthing along a proud jaw; by pushing up against the strong line of his lover’s body, his hands still curled around that exquisite neck but not squeezing anymore. Vaguely, Genesis acknowledged the way they kept meeting each other halfway on a physical level could probably speak something about their mental states. And sure, they dealt with their emotions differently, but sometimes, the former Commander ventured to guess that maybe, just maybe they weren’t so dissimilar at their cores. They both had a multitude of complex feelings; and while Sephiroth’s were usually compartmentalized and bound by stoicism and buried underneath years of resolute control, Genesis’ were more closer to the surface, always roiling and on the verge of becoming a full-on conflagration. And at the current moment, they both seemed to want the same thing. As much as the blue-eyed ex-First wanted to be thrown down and taken roughly and fiercely until he forgot his own name, the way his silver-haired partner was spreading his legs against his thigh as Genesis ground his hips against the younger man’s was too tantalizing of an offer to turn down. 

Indecisive-and it was strange, because he was never like this-the former soldier decided to let go of the perfect arch of his companion’s neck and plunged his fingers inside the silvery waterfall of Sephiroth’s mane, tugged none-too-gently on the strands before pressing his lips against the sharp jut of an adam’s apple, sucking, laving; soft and gentle, and then hard enough to bruise as he trailed hot, meandering open-mouthed kisses until he could reach the younger man’s pulse point. A litany of inhalations and exhalations, the hot, ragged ingress and egress of breath almost too loud and echoing off the walls in the tiled enclosed space. When Genesis straightened, when he started licking at the seam of Sephiroth’s lips insistently enough for the younger man to meet his tongue with his before they could actually kiss-a pink tip slithering along median sulcus before the redhead could plunder the hot cavern of his lover’s mouth-the moan and groan that got muffled when their lips finally closed around one another were unowned.

A small voice at the back of his head whispered that they shouldn’t be doing this; that this was heinous because the man outside of where they had sequestered themselves wouldn’t be able to share something like this with his partner, or with anyone probably for a long time. But Genesis had had enough of being selfless for today, had had enough of caring for others...if he didn’t do anything-even if it was having sex just after he’d helped put his best friend to death-he was going to go insane or do something irreversible, and no one wanted that…most of all Sephiroth didn’t deserve that. The silver-haired man was-as he himself sometimes put it-probably already _sick of his shit_.

His partner arched suggestively against him, drawing back to trace nonsensical emblems against his bottom lip with a thumb-eyes smoldering-before advancing once again. Dexterous fingers dug into the redhead’s hair, scraped across his scalp before bunching in his shirtfront. And it was a little strange for the older man to acknowledge that submission...how it had come to an unspoken point of understanding between them. Backwards somewhat and the General in interim’s spine hit the wall. Genesis saw the moment his lover acknowledged it...saw the brief flash of hesitance in his eyes before it melted into acquiescent lust tempered with the edge of something unnameable. Like the blue glimmer of ocean and shore from far away...it undulated in those emerald depths...the slightest shiver of shared grief in a sea of uncertainty. It gave him pause-gave them both pause-though what they were waiting for he couldn’t say. Eyes glazed...breathing uneven. A breathless, suffused accumulation of mentality...of cohesive desire that was at once pococurante yet keen. 

Then, gradually, the hand in his shirt loosened so Sephiroth could drape his arm over Genesis’ shoulder...so he could bow his head and lift his right leg...hooking it around the redhead’s hip and keeping it there. Emerald irises locked with his; affectionate and patient but at the same time terribly vulnerable. And the younger man rocked into the bulk of his arousal like he was chasing the flightiest of adversaries, like he was advancing on a line of enemies with the sharpest hearing. Once-twice and it became a slow roll...like the lap of water against shore. The seam of familiar lips parted...a tongue swiping across them in a gesture that was more reflexive than it was teasing. His former comrade leaned forward to kiss him again before he let his weight settle against the wall more fully-kept up the movement of his lower body-before tilting his head back and baring his neck. 

And it was the magnificent arch of that pale throat that broke him out of the trance that had fallen over him. Genesis didn’t know if Sephiroth had seen into his eyes like the open doors they were now, had seen how he’d held the former Commander in thrall; how it seemed so bizarre for the redhead to see his silver-haired partner so expressive...for the younger man to be so willing to receive. And the older man knew how showing vulnerability was for his partner, how this was a very intimate gesture for his companion… Vaguely, he could almost acknowledge that by doing this, Sephiroth was telling him that he still loved him, with all the fucked-up ways the redhead had proposed earlier to deal with his pain. And while the blue-eyed ex-First was also surprised with himself, because here he was giving again...he also couldn’t help but want to take that love, want to take what his lover was proffering: to take him and crawl inside him, to lose himself until he was nameless… 

So, while he wasn’t sure if Sephiroth had seen that dark lustful thing that rushed to the forefront, that stained the azure of his irises like stygian ink; while he wasn’t sure if his lover was aware of the desire that coiled hungrily in his gut, Genesis found himself mouthing ravenously along the pearlescent skin. His fingers quickly divested his partner of his own sweater he’d given him atop the hill before promptly deciding that his lover could get rid of his shirt himself and dropping to his own knees. Beryl eyes were following his movements, a handsome face haloed by a curtain of molten silver and the former Commander couldn’t tear his gaze away… There was the clink of a buckle, the hastiness in his movements, and possibly a callous obdurate expression on his face, but the ex-soldier couldn’t focus on that or he would probably end up not following through with what they’d started.

Button, zipper, a yank almost-gentle at first to get the straining, flushed curve of his lover’s cock free-and Genesis didn’t give Sephiroth time as he quickly took the younger man’s erection in his mouth. Eyes fluttering closed as he reached blindly for a slender-fingered hand, intertwined their digits for a moment before he brought them to his hair, tapping on the back of a palm to convey that it was the silver-haired First who had to set the pace. For now.

It was different from their other times...the redhead wasn’t blind to it. He wasn’t normally like this, but he couldn’t stay focused on one notion at a time long enough for himself to be able to process what he was feeling, why it was affecting him to the point of making him behave this way… And maybe, the General’s idea about dueling now would have been a better one because he wasn’t sure if he was doing an amazing job at pleasuring the silver-haired man. 

He needed to get the fuck out of his own head.

It took some time through their mutual shared haze for his lover to register the gesture and accede. It was the tugging on his auburn strands that got him to focus, the gradual ingress of that girthy cock over his tongue, the taste of precum bursting on his taste buds… And when he moaned, tried deepthroating Sephiroth as his lover thrusted forward, it made his eyes water until he could get his breathing under control, to relax his throat… A muffled groan fell from those cerise lips above him, and Genesis gazed upwards; felt his thoughts scatter. The sound that bubbled up the back of his throat then, was an echo of his lover’s, his pants suddenly feeling too tight as he felt the younger man buck forward, lacking the rhythmic control the General had been exerting previously.

It was always rather intoxicating to watch Sephiroth fall apart like this.

With somewhat of a thrill, the former Commander acknowledged that he was the only person who got to see him like this; flushing and glassy-eyed....his lips swollen from kissing, and biting into them. That pale column of a throat worked convulsively as the silver-haired First swallowed, as he ran a distracted hand through moonlight-colored locks as his hips snapped almost mindlessly. Hunched over...the fingers grasping his hair clenched reflexively as that iron control fell to pieces. And Sephiroth let go like it was a collapse...like all those walls he kept up were paper-thin and ragged and translucent. It wasn’t so; but the manner in which such ardor was given was indicative of abandon...of surrender. Those emerald irises were almost accusatory in the strength of their expression, and under different circumstances they would have been. Here, now, it was understood that the look in his former comrade’s eyes was that of a kind of wondering veneration, of affection and invocation. 

_ “Gen-sis-!” _

Breathless, like the words wouldn’t roll over his tongue correctly and it took everything he had not to rise to his feet and suck that abbreviated verbiage right out of him. Genesis hollowed his cheeks, drew his partner’s cock deep, worked over it until the air coming from that beautiful mouth was stuttered and ragged. The redhead let a finger run down the line of his partner’s perineum, and the jerk that he received in response was an ardent upheaval of the spine...enough to force him to chase his partner’s need…to grasp it and lick his way up the twitching shaft to the head before laving the underside with a kind of libertine focus. The taste of seed on his tongue was a heavy thing; not exactly pleasant but arousing all the same because it was a testimonial to his lover’s gratification. He could-distinctly-feel when the younger man was about to come...could feel the way his cock grew stiff and full...the manner in which his thighs tightened in a pre-herald to monumental bliss. 

Genesis chose that moment to pull away; to let his hair fall from a long-fingered hand so he could grasp both of Sephiroth’s hips. Surprise gave the General in interim reticence but he went with it...rotated so he was facing the wall...all perspiring dermis and flushed features. The redhead took a moment to palm his now-aching erection before placing a palm on his partner’s backside so he could let a thumb drag across his ass cheek. The silver-haired First had maybe a split-second’s warning before he promptly spread him open and got his tongue in as deep as he could go. 

And it was beautiful. In the same way that everything was about the individual currently coming undone below him.

His own cock was achingly hard between his legs, twitching and weeping pre-ejaculate every time Sephiroth’s breath hitched, and Genesis wanted to look-if his face wasn’t buried between his partner’s glutes-...to see aside from his ministrations what was unraveling the younger man in such a glorious way; what was reducing him to this state of debauchery… The former Commander didn’t really keep at it, because this wasn’t how he’d envisioned this. Maybe another time that he wasn’t seeking that edge of abandon like a man drowning in an ocean, starved for air. Pulling back and slowly standing up, the redhead took his time to appreciate the masterpiece that was his beloved partner...and what a sight it was. 

The bunch of musculature underneath ivory...silver spilling over his lover’s shoulder and back, and Genesis wanted to have a hair tie to pull it into a ponytail, or braid it and then twist it around his palm, yank it back until that exquisite throat was curved into a magnificent arc...shirtless, the juts of shoulder blades prominent as Sephiroth had his forehead leaning against his forearms against the wall. And the former Commander’s hands were covetous things, running up those well-built sides, across a broad chiseled chest. His companion turned to look at him over a shoulder, and the older man couldn’t withstand that gravitational pull, stepped forward and captured those lips-that the silver-haired First had worried with his teeth-with his mouth; and the slide of his arousal along the crevice of the General’s ass was salacious, and so was the groan that fell from his lips.  _ And when had the younger man become such a wanton little thing? _ Genesis heard himself groan a rather throaty and lewd ‘ _ Fuck’ _ as Sephiroth rolled and raised hips upwards...asscheeks along his sartorius…and he had to draw back before he could come right there and then.

Letting his hand trail down the younger man’s spine with a reverent air, he splayed it against the sacral triangle and nudged his lover downwards before whispering almost gently. “Lower your back Seph.” Spitting in his hand as he caught the gaze of one of those beautiful burning beryl irises through strands of moonlight, Genesis watched Sephiroth do as he was bid while stroking his own straining arousal with his spit-slick hand; gathered the precum somewhat, sucked on middle and forefinger before sticking them into that velvety heat. It had to hurt a little bit. There was the catch of not-quite thoroughly prepared flesh on his fingertips, the sense of resistance. Something in the older man whispered that maybe he ought to feel guilty about it...that this wasn’t the way they’d normally go about things. But then, his partner groaned...muted and low in his throat, pushed back against the invasion and the concept of temperance fled. Deeper, flexing and curling, and the heat surrounding his fingers was tight...hot. His partner’s breathing was ragged, that head of silver hair had dropped somewhat with his ministrations and the former Commander used his free hand to sink hungry digits into that river of moonlight to pull it backwards; until he could tilt the General’s head to the side and mouth along his jugular. A reciprocative shiver, and he bit down; not hard enough to break the skin but hard enough to leave a flowering bruise that would fade as quickly as it was formed.

Sephiroth-he decided-had had plenty of time to adjust.

Beginning a series of firm, steady thrusts, Genesis rolled his hips in unison with his actions. The channel around his fingers clenched sharply, and there was that resistance again; but again, Sephiroth groaned, and it was with slight surprise that the scarlet-haired man realized that the pain that his partner was feeling was giving him an edge to his pleasure; a red-hot, fiery line between agony and ardor that he was riding with a fervency that almost made his cock jealous. Because of course Sephiroth was going to have a kink in that area, and of course he would be the one to find it. The older man twisted his wrist, facilitated a sharp-almost flicking-movement and reveled in the response...in the initial surprise and that liquid...obscene manner in which the green-eyed First melted into it...mouth hanging open like he couldn’t wrap his mind around the riot of sensations within him. And again, there was a part of him that insisted that he ought to ask about this...that this would be the point where they would discuss something like a safeword or even a signal that he was being too rough. But the former Commander chose that moment to drive his fingers into the barely-there protrusion of the younger man’s prostate...kept going...let himself rub with tremulous digits. The noise that fell from his lover’s lips was almost shocked-though, again, not loud-almost muffled in its careful control as the General in interim seemed to hearken to the gesture...as the back-end of his vociferation became a bit lilting and just on the edge of adjure. 

With a thrill of licentiousness, Genesis acknowledged he could probably make Sephiroth come like this: somewhat bent over with his fingers driving him to ruin. He added a third just because he could...because he wanted to watch that beautiful aperture stretch with the invasion; roseate and circinate, furrowed and slick. And the younger man had closed his mouth to keep the sounds from escaping but they broke free all the same; in a muted alternation of groans and huffs...in the clench of teeth and the shiver of physicality. He wanted to chalk it up to play on his part...but he couldn’t. He was too hungry...too desperate to be driven to distraction to really appreciate the fact that he’d uncovered a whole new universe of sexual adventures brought on by his companion’s obvious relish in that subtle undertone of masochism. Too aggrieved to really appreciate how honest Sephiroth was being with him right now; all lithe hips and burning eyes...stifled sighs and full-body shudders. 

_ “Do it.”  _

A groan broke free from his throat, escaped his vocal chords and got stifled behind his lips. And Genesis wanted to wrap his hand around the pale column he’d been strangling earlier and at the same time utter  _ ‘With pleasure’ _ . Going for neither however, he pulled his hand back and out, felt his lips curl into a smug smirk as his lover made an unnameable low sound at the withdrawal of his digits, before spitting in the palm of his hand. Touching himself and spreading precum and saliva along his aching cock, Genesis lined himself up as he gripped the musculature of gluteus maximus and pushed forward before his hands came to clutch and hold onto lithe lean hips. 

There was the resistance of a tight ring of muscle, and when he got the head in, he stopped, trying to catch his own breath. Because he was going to explode, and Sephiroth wasn’t really making this any easier on him, throwing surprise after surprise at him and literally taking his breath away. There was some tension, and it was to be expected...he really hadn’t been thorough, and this was just spit and precum...it was definitely better than raw but nothing compared to lube... It was with a strange jolt of lucidity that he realized he’d never taken Sephiroth like this before...there had always been lube.

Something in him relented. And maybe it was a good thing, because if he moved right now, he was bound to embarrass himself. Draping himself over the magnificent physicality bent under him, Genesis started traversing the smooth expanse of alabaster presented to him while with one of his hands, he started rediscovering the map of his lover’s torso… Fingers tracing the dips in between abs; higher, over the slight hollow below sternum and against the strong beat of the heart that was his. The redhead sucked against the hard line of his partner’s spine before placing a kiss there… Higher, over pectoralis major, a feather-light touch over areola and then  _ pinch _ , just as he started stroking the younger man’s semi-hard erection. 

“You’re going to be so  _ fucking  _ tight.” Genesis echoed against the pale shell of an ear after he’d recovered from the involuntary tightening of his lover’s entrance; let his hand drop and hit the side of Sephiroth’s ass in a somewhat resounding slap.

The younger man shuddered in response; he caught the glow of an emerald iris over one shoulder as his partner arched slightly. He was distracted by the lithe bunch and flex of lean alabaster muscle before the silver-haired soldier braced one knee on the wall-slightly crooked-and drove himself backwards onto his cock. The redhead made an aborted noise of shock and slight discomfort as he did so; the challenge in those emerald irises was clear as he found his length enveloped in tight, moist ecstacy. Pale, alabaster fingers were splayed against the wall before them, blunt fingernails digging in slightly before digits flexed and relented. Sephiroth’s breathing was just on the edge of animal, and that would have been  _ hot  _ if he had the brain power to focus around the fact that it felt like he was getting an orgasm squeezed out of him. As it was, the redhead gritted his teeth and thought ferociously about string theory until the danger had passed. It took him a good two minutes of panting against the back of his partner’s neck, but when he lifted his head and grasped the younger man’s hip he caught the slight wince that passed over his lover’s features purely by coincidence. As if conscious of his facial gestures, the General in interim lifted a hand to pull him in for a hard kiss that he felt clean down his spine. 

“I’m fine,” Sephiroth murmured against his lips. “Move.” 

When it was clear that he was still reticent, the silver-haired soldier’s lips curled into a slightly impatient expression before he rocked into him slightly. Clutching, pulling,  _ desirous _ , and his self-control fell to pieces. Pulling back, Genesis found his balance before beginning a series of quick, punctuated thrusts that had the body before him stiffening...almost shrinking away before Sephiroth groaned, and this time it was not so quiet. It was a drawn out thing...shivering at the edges and tinged with abandon. Letting his mouth wander over the nape of his lover’s neck, the redhead let his free hand snake ‘round to yank the younger man to him more fully, sought a deeper angle as his former comrade’s head lolled mindlessly. And it was equally involuntary that he let his hand snake under his lover’s armpit...up that pale expanse of chest to parted lips; digits dancing across flushed vermillion until they were taken deep into the cavern of a hot mouth, tongue flicking over the knuckles. 

Genesis nearly beat through his lower lip, because  _ fuck, fuck, fuck _ ,  _ this was hot... _ He was on fire, and it was all Sephiroth’s fault this time...in an exquisitely licentious way that should be taboo, and the entirety of the redheaded ex-soldier’s being was wrought with desire… He had to slow down to a grind against his partner’s prostate. It was slightly difficult logistically to work with their current tangle of limbs as he reached forward to grip his lover’s erection, at the same time trying to work his hips with the rhythm that his left hand was stroking along that straining shaft. That amazing mouth sucked around his fingers, and swearing under his breath, the former Commander decided that if he came sooner than his silver-haired companion did, he was going to ride that beautifully weeping cock in between his digits. The imagery was enough to make him groan deep and lean a damp forehead against a shoulder blade. 

“So…” A breathless huff. “ _ Demanding. _ ” Another ingress, and the lithe virile physicality in his arms was positively divine. When that silver-haloed head tilted downwards, a pale back arching against him like a strung bow and quivering with tension; when those elegant digits curled and uncurled against the wall-scrabbling for purchase-Genesis was helpless but to hearken to it. Nipping the flushed ivory of a shoulder dappled with miniscule diamonds, he whispered. “ _ Beautiful _ … Touch yourself for me.”

And again, they were unraveling, undulating, writhing. The former Commander wasn’t going to stop. With that luxurious mouth around his fingers where the rush of Sephiroth’s exhalations, moans and groans escaped hot along and around them; the sometimes too sharp dig of incisors as they bit down and simply scraped along his knuckles before kiss-swollen vermillion parted when his partner became more cognizant of what he’d been doing. Then there was the clench of that tight, hot passage around him, coaxing him to chase after his own release...chase it with abandon...and that was what he was going to do… Twisting silverspun hair around his palm and yanking back, Genesis reveled in the beautiful arch of a bared throat; he clutched his lover’s hip more firmly, tried to hit that locus of pleasure inside with every hilt-deep thrust...and the slap of flesh was music to his ears. So were the litany of his own overloud breaths and how Sephiroth’s were somewhat muffled at first before his partner seemed to give up… 

Genesis felt his climax sneak up on him from behind...but he hung by the barest thread; pressed his lips together and let go of silvery strands to push his own hair out of his face.

“ _ Seph… _ ” Urgent, supplicative.

His partner made a choked noise that might have worried him under different circumstances. As it was, he watched those green eyes grow wide before the channel surrounding his cock constricted. The exclamation that fell from those gorgeous lips was guttural, satisfied yet desperate. The body in his arms seized, Sephiroth’s forehead nearly hit the wall as his orgasm seemed to come upon him so hard that he was momentarily not in control of his limbs whatsoever. His hand slipped and Genesis was forced to catch him somewhat before he regained himself with one desperate palm that dented the plaster. And it seemed to go on considerably-a first for Sephiroth, he thought dimly, deliriously-the taut shiver of the younger man's physicality, the manner in which he grew stiff but somehow pliant. The silver-haired First's breath hitched-hissed through his teeth-and cum suffused the wall in front of them. When it was over, the General in interim let out a gasp that was nearly vocal-his first full breath in over a minute, Genesis acknowledged-and he seemed to sag before righting himself; the look on that face that of someone who was utterly  _ wrecked  _ and-

-He was  _ done.  _

Genesis groaned, drove forward hard and heedless, buried his face in moonlight tresses and fucked into that welcome ingress like it would serve him solace. …And maybe it did, a little bit. The pinnacle of his pleasure was a hot glow at the base of his spine that shivered outwards like an electric charge. He could feel the too-tight, too-warm sensation that prickled through him, like the swell of a balloon. The redhead moaned low in his throat, grasped the curve of Sephiroth's ass covetously just to feel the tantalizing musculature of it. Focused vision narrowed down to a point before blooming into a red haze, and it was almost sweet over his tongue, almost a thick, physical thing that was so strong it left him shuddering. Despite the fact that he’d already finished, the younger man tilted his hips; offered him a full view and greater access to his ass, and the look sent over one shoulder was gently passionate. Silver hair-slightly damp-was stuck to the side of that beautiful face... disheveled and gorgeous, and the look in those eyes seemed to say  _ 'yours.’ _

_ “Give it to me,”  _ Sephiroth whispered breathlessly. 

Saying that he exploded wouldn’t be that much of a stretch. With Sephiroth’s voice in his ears and how he’d looked at him before Genesis had had to shut his eyes-as his euphoria engulfed his being like a tree extending its branches in the tensing cage of his physicality-his orgasm came to him in a fiery wave that had him spending his load as he sought that too hot, almost shivering, velvety heat again and again in a state of enraptured frenzy. He wasn’t really cognizant of how his body was...just dimly aware of the warmth of Sephiroth’s physicality underneath him, the sweat slick slide of his forehead against his lover’s back, and the faint feather-light brush of fingers against the side of his thigh...tethering him to the here and now as he lost himself before finally, gradually coming down… 

Pressing a lax kiss-a brush of lips really-against the smooth epidermis, he held their position a little longer...even though he felt like slumping to the ground or inside the tub so he could sleep until the water would run cold. Instead, he cracked his heavy eyelids open, stared at the open space, pleased and sated. And his mind was a vacant oasis now...and that’s what mattered...for the time being.

“You alright?” He queried breathlessly.

The quiet  _ ‘mm’  _ that fell from Sephiroth's mouth was heavy with exhaustion but still satisfied and appreciative. Out of mutual agreement, they pulled away from each other, and the younger man staggered slightly-braced himself more fully-as he turned in the circle of the redhead's arms so he could place a lax, open-mouthed kiss to his lips. The General in interim bumped their foreheads together even as one hand descended to grasp Genesis’ hip, swaying slightly as he did so. And there was something incredibly triumphant about being able to reduce Shinra's Finest to an unsteady, debauched wreck but he filed this away for later examination. Seeming to only now realize he'd been asked a question, the redhead's former comrade spoke. 

“I'm fine,” was the hoarse, low reply. Those cerise lips curved into a smile that was slightly sultry. “You're good, you know,” was the almost-purr against his lips. When Genesis raised an eyebrow, Sephiroth appeared to relent. “Maybe you do,” he amended dryly. A sigh, and it was hard to tell who it came from. Calloused fingers stroked the curve of the redhead's cheekbone even as his lover drew him closer..kissed the corners of his mouth before drawing back, and cocking his head. “...Bed?

Looping his arms around his lover’s neck, the former Commander buried his face in the fall of Sephiroth’s hair and just listened. His fingers slowly tangled themselves in the slightly damp tresses as Genesis pressed closer, or rather pulled the younger man toward him, and again they had to brace themselves against the wall. A niggling voice in the back of his head was whispering that he was absolutely gross, needed a bath or a shower at least, but it was just too much of an effort right now. The redhead didn’t know if his partner still planned on getting shitfaced or not, but he’d never dogged after the General, and he wasn’t planning on starting now. There was also the matter of what came after, which he couldn’t focus on at the moment. Dimly, he acknowledged that he might actually be inclined to being carried to bed if Sephiroth offered, however unlikely it was considering how tired both of them were. Mumbling something nonsensical and wholly unintelligible, he drew back and echoed. “Bed?”

Green eyes wandered over them briefly before the younger man grimaced. Disentangling himself, the General slid away from him and moved to the sink to retrieve a washcloth and a couple of towels. Running the first under warm water, his partner returned to thoroughly scrub them off before utilizing the second in order to remove any excess moisture. 

“You know, from my experience,” was the gently teasing remark. “It’s usually the giver who does this sort of thing.” Genesis assumed his answering expression must have been a little grumpy because the silver-haired man’s lip curled upward on one side before he leaned in to kiss him again. “I’m not complaining,” he continued quietly. Long fingers threaded through his hair; once-twice before retreating once more. The former Commander took the time to wrap a towel around his waist while his partner disappeared only to come back with a pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips. Emerald irises lingered over a bottle of lotion on the sink, flicking between the redhead and the container before apparently thinking better of it. “Bed.” was the firm affirmation. 

The older man had maybe a split-second to acknowledge the comment before he was unceremoniously picked up and carried out of the bathroom bridal-style. 

It was-he reflected crankily-a testament to the powers of mako that the younger man could be thoroughly fucked and then proceed to carry him around like a sack of potatoes. Platinum hair brushed his cheek, and he brushed it away before being promptly deposited on the bed. Vincent was-he acknowledged-still asleep; the deep, exhausted breathing coming from the floor an indicator of his somnolent presence. With his observance the grief that passion had held at bay came back somewhat, but then Sephiroth was crawling up the coverlet beside him; long arms pulling him into their embrace in the dark of the room...a leg sliding between his. The sheet and comforter descended over him...completing the metaphorical essence of their midnight cocoon. For a moment, there was silence...and the blue-eyed ex-First could feel himself getting sleepy before Sephiroth spoke.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. 

It was hard to fight off the small smile that pulled on his lips-even if it was tinged with a hint of somberness-as he lingered there for a moment and let that comment sink in. Then, detangling himself somewhat only to turn around and face his silver-haired lover, Genesis pulled Sephiroth’s leg between his again as he observed his companion’s visage with softening blue eyes. Brushing moonspun locks behind the shell of a pale ear, his fingertips traced along the strands for an instant or two as he whispered in an equally low voice. “Thank  _ you _ …” An ephemeral chaste kiss he pressed against the perfect bow of his lover’s lips. “For everything.” Draping an arm around his partner’s waist, Genesis crawled lower somewhat, so he could nestle his head under the younger man’s chin, murmuring an ‘I love you.’ under his breath as he let his eyes flutter closed. It was a little warm, though his lack of clothes made up for it; coupled with being surrounded by Sephiroth’s embrace, his faint heartbeat, and the musk of his scent, it was hard not to give into their wonted sense of peace and slumber.

* * *

They had to stay in Banora for three more days after Angeal left them.

It was strange to be in the presence of the ebon-haired gunslinger when he was like that, but both of them were more or less afraid of what he might do if they let him go back to their-his, the eldest of them’s, no Angeal-room. So, Genesis had had to leave theirs to pack up his former comrade’s stuff and Vincent’s and bring both of the duffel bags back to their place; trying to place the dark-haired First’s somewhere nondescript that his lover’s father wouldn’t have to see it all the time. 

It was almost obvious that the eldest of them wanted to be left alone. He’d been tense and disoriented when he’d woken up on the first day on the floor of their room and noticed that instead of a dark-haired blue-eyed First, Sephiroth and Genesis were the ones around him; that he was clutching Angeal’s shirt still. It had been too painful watching the realization of everything that had happened dawn in those crimson irises yet again, as though the gunman had thought those events had been the most terrible of nightmares. But there wasn’t really much they could do beside being there for Valentine and maintaining their distance at the same time. 

It had been a quiet, and still sort of coexistence; there was no tranquility to it at all, not when it came to the red-eyed ex-Turk especially. It was somewhat reminiscent of the day his childhood friend’s lover had come to them on Funaraoi with the news of Angeal’s degradation. A man brought to ruin, with a haunted expression that never seemed to want to leave his pale face. Sephiroth was obviously worried about his sire, and Genesis was as well; and as much as they both were trying to care for the older man, they were at a loss on what to do and how to go about it. Because while last time listening and providing a means to hope might have helped, this time there simply wasn’t anything that they could do. They were all men of action, and while neither of them were good at sympathizing at all, he was glad that they hadn’t acted on it either; because surely Vincent would hang them from the rafters if they tried to coddle and cuddle him. 

They’d refrained from PDAs, even though it wasn’t really a public scene and Genesis really didn’t give a damn where he was when he was displaying affection. But it was out of unspoken mutual agreement that they didn’t really do anything, beside being there for one another, and for Vincent. The former Commander had had some bizarre and alarming moments of wanting to hug Sephiroth’s father, even though the older man wasn’t exactly the kind of person you’d think you’d want to embrace; yet, he was forced to acknowledge it when the urge made itself known more than once. Regardless, he’d also refrained from taking action upon such tendencies because it was definitely not going to be well-received, and because he wasn’t the kind of person going around giving people sympathizing hugs. Also because he was sure the gunslinger would definitely empty a round of bullets in his head, or the scarlet-haired ex-First would ask him to because he wasn’t going to live it down if the aforementioned man’s son found him hugging his father. 

Nights were different though. He couldn’t stop holding his partner close in a tangle of limbs whose owners were hardly distinguishable. Sometimes, it felt like he couldn’t stop nestling himself against that strong, chiseled torso like he wanted to crack Sephiroth’s ribcage open and go reside in his chest. Sometimes, when he woke up in the dead of the night, probably from a nightmare or whatever image that escaped him at his earliest moments of wakefulness, the redhead would nudge the silver-haired First on his back so he could pillow his head against the steady his lover’s heartbeat...he would listen to its full, rhythmic  _ thump-thump _ in hopes that it would replace that quickening heartbeat,  _ those arrhythmic palpitations-!... _ so that it could reassure him, relieve him enough to go back to sleep.

Vincent and Sephiroth hadn’t accompanied him to the crematory to send Angeal off. His presence wasn’t needed either, but he’d wanted to go...wanted to be there because it’d helped cement the fact that his dark-haired childhood friend hadn’t gone off to Wutai or some mission far away; that he had been going somewhere where his dog tag couldn’t follow him, that it wasn’t needed anymore...because they separated anything metal from the  _ bodies  _ before sending them past that iron maw... _ inside _ that lackluster casket which had been rolling on conveyors to some chamber soon to be engulfed by flames. The redhead hadn’t stayed there for the entirety of the process even though that had been the idea; because maybe his lover and his lover’s father needed some alone time together. But Genesis found that he couldn’t listen to the sound of everything-even as muted as it was by the  _ supposedly  _ ‘reinforced’ walls-and instead had his legs drag him to some bar to smoke himself into a chimney and get  _ shitfaced  _ as his silver-haired partner had been wanting to get. 

All the while turning an oval piece of metal with debossed lettering at the end of a chain over and over again in his pants pocket. 

They stayed more or less at the inn, aside from yesterday that they went out for a walk, or rather dragged his partner’s sire along for a stroll around the town, subtly-or not subtly at all-trying to visit places they hadn't been to with Angeal. It was hard, considering that Banora wasn’t exactly boundless; and while they had stuck to the more middle and lower class parts of the town then, they went for the upper class part in a poorly executed excuse that Genesis had wanted to check out what had happened to the extravagance of the Rhapsodos mansion; that he wanted to find out who was now the mayor, what had happened to their lands after the fire of Sephiroth’s destruction, etc… They would’ve gone back much earlier because there was no point loitering in the town that had brought all three of them so much pain, despite all the good, distant memories. The only reason they stayed as long as they did was because they’d been waiting for Angeal’s ashes which they were handed in some black, nondescript container.

The aforementioned man’s partner had been silent, numb even, if Genesis daresaid. It had been more or less the case for the past several days, except for when the silver-haired General had informed him about the parade...which had contended that usually emotionless visage with a look of sincere dread and sheer agony before being hidden. Both he and Sephiroth were far too keen on this sort of thing not to have noticed it, but they didn’t say anything. In terms of that sleek black container that had been sitting there on their table, however, it was almost on the verge of becoming a pandora’s box. The former Commander had just been about to open his mouth to suggest that they scatter the ashes somewhere that had been Angeal’s favorite, only to see Vincent come over and take the box away in a manner that was very much alike how he’d taken his former comrade’s shirt from his hands that day.

And it was understood…in a manner that made something stab agonizingly in his chest. While he was grateful for not having opened his mouth again when it hadn’t been due, Genesis couldn’t help but dread when they were going back to HQ; when Valentine would have to face the reality of their empty apartment, alone.

When his lover stood up and strode to his sire to give him another black box-much smaller, enough that it could fit inside a palm-those jet-black eyebrows furrowed. Vincent cradled the box of Angeal’s ashes to his chest so he could open the one Sephiroth had given to him only to let out a muted sort of gasp; and it was understood even then.

Because then, the gunman’s long ivory fingers took whatever was inside-a silver necklace-and from it dangled a sandglass...miniature, twinkling in the light and...very empty.

And even though Genesis felt like he wanted to become a part of the pattern of the wallpapers behind him-because this was a moment that he didn’t feel he had the right to be a part of-he could see the recognition that flickered in those ruby irises mirrored in emerald ones. Because both he and Sephiroth had caught the ebon-haired gunslinger eyeing and even picking  _ it _ up in one of the side-street shops only to promptly put it back down when the shopkeeper came over. 

He could see as Vincent’s face fell...even if it was for the most miniscule of instants...could hear the  _ ‘Thank you’ _ the eldest of them was unable to utter...and he could still understand:

That time is a borrowed thing and it runs out before you might expect it to.


	23. Chapter Twenty: Alternate Ending

Things were far from normal. 

Kneeling to pet Chaos, Vincent ran absent-minded fingers through silky black fur and thought back to the events of the past few days. That wasn’t to say that things were  _ bad,  _ they just weren’t normal. It was a bit strange to acknowledge the perpetuity of motion despite all of it...the fact that everything was moving forward when it seemed impossible to catch their breaths even for a second. And despite the fact that it had been a long time since their encounter with the Goddess in the caves, the memory of it was still fresh because of the consequences. He didn’t know what he resented more; Angeal’s immortality or Sephiroth’s intended death. The gunslinger supposed that both were on a somewhat equal scale...you couldn’t really compare them in terms of inner pain. Because he knew what it was like to be immortal, to acknowledge that you would never change...that you would watch your loved ones pass on and remain as you were.

That didn’t change the horror of watching your son die in front of your eyes.

It was a little bit like breaking into a million pieces...like watching the world dissolve before him. Because he’d never known Sephiroth until very recently, had never gotten the opportunity to get to know him due to his own carelessness and indecision. That didn’t change the fact that he was still his father...that the man with a sword through his chest had once been the small, discreet bump that Lucrecia carried around under her lab coat. And the bearer herself was negligible at this point...but he’d been present until it mattered most...and then when it didn’t matter he was present and it was  _ agonizing.  _ And those eyes didn’t know him...didn’t know anything except the panicked, redheaded individual in front of him who dissolved with him in the Corrupt Lifestream. He’d been left to watch his partner barter with a deranged deity that he wanted nothing more than to shoot directly between the eyes. It took everything in his power not to do so and he was somewhat certain that it wouldn’t have worked anyway.

Minerva was a projection of the Planet’s will in human form but she wasn’t the Planet...and that was what had stayed his hand.

Instead, he was forced to observe as the glowing figure before him spoke to his lover in words that he couldn’t hear but could  _ feel;  _ thrumming through his veins...trembling through his physicality like an ephemeral, powerful thing. The context was unknown to him but the sense of dread that accosted him was breathtaking in its intensity. Later, when Angeal revealed the nature of his contract with the Planet he’d wanted to scream...wanted to be able to trade places with the younger man in order to assuage his pain. And he knew that the price for saving Sephiroth and Genesis would be high...some might even say that it was an unerringly  _ fair  _ price...but it wasn’t a price...not really. How could you put a price on eternal life? How did you define it? He knew from experience that you couldn’t; because the end result might  _ seem  _ appealing but it wasn’t appealing...not from a long term standpoint. 

It took Angeal a while to recover physically.

The dark-haired First spent many, many days in the Science Department getting accustomed to using his newly-healed body again. And there was something a little bit strange about knowing that despite the fact that the degradation was gone, his partner still had to fight for full mobility. When his job didn’t demand his presence, the crimson-eyed Turk spent his time helping the younger man through stretches and other exercises that would help to build muscle and strength. There were days when they were both tired...when they were both discouraged yet at the same time hopeful. They took time off from their respective tasks to spend time together...because time was something they’d had so little of in the past. Most of it they whiled away in Angeal’s apartment because it was where they were the most comfortable; playing cards, chasing Chaos around or cooking something creative for dinner which occasionally turned out more burnt than creative. 

It was hard not to be happy about it.

Seeing his partner wake up in the morning, his skin that healthy... _ alive  _ shade filled with vitality inundated Vincent with a kind of relief that he felt guilty about feeling. And Angeal had never been ugly when he was degrading, but he had been sick...very sick...and seeing the color in his cheeks...the beautiful onyx of his hair made him want to run his fingers through it, over and over and over again until he accepted that this was  _ real.  _ He wanted to map every inch of the former General’s body...wanted to thread his fingers through the younger man’s toes and count each one just because he could. He caught himself staring at odd moments; when the blue-eyed First would walk across one of the hallways with floor to ceiling windows in Administration...when he was sitting in his armchair reading the paper. During his time degrading, it had felt a little bit like looking at a ghost...like he was seeing an echo of something departed. Now..it was different. 

They talked about it as much as they could...came to terms with it to the best of their ability. They spent long nights sitting up in bed, arms wrapped around each other as they considered the aspect of forever. It was intimidating as it was breathtaking...the reversal of their roles. There were times when he didn’t know what to do with it...didn’t know how to offer comfort or say the right thing. True to his character, Angeal was eternally patient with him...eternally kind and forgiving. And if Vincent was completely selfish one evening and proceeded to have hysterics over the fact that he was going to leave his lover alone within the next fifty years, the former General was so gracious he then proceeded to have hysterics over his graciousness. Slowly, it became something of a resigned acceptance. They didn’t talk about it because it was understood, even if it was resented. Angeal took his trips to Aerith alone now because the dark-haired gunslinger couldn’t bear to look at someone who supported an entity that had bound him into servitude. Somehow...that was understood too.

Sephiroth also took a considerable amount of time to recover.

Considerable for Sephiroth...that is...not considerable to anyone else with normal cellular regeneration rates and entirely human cells running through their body. The silver-haired soldier spent perhaps three days in the ICU before being moved to General Inpatient. When it was clear that his partner wouldn’t be suffering any permanent setbacks from his injury, Genesis slowly began to reintegrate himself into the dojo. He only did this-of course-with considerable insistence from his partner, who was going so stir-crazy Vincent was sincerely surprised that he hadn’t broken out of the Science Division just so he could do some paperwork. And he might have asked the younger man how he was processing his near death experience but technically his son had already died once and he doubted he wanted to relive the process just for the sake of the former Turk feeling better about his ability to communicate with his progeny. 

As it was, it took Sephiroth perhaps two weeks to regather his full strength and a few more for him to convince Genesis that he was ready to begin work as usual. When he did Vincent was sincerely relieved because it meant that he could stop worrying about him blowing up HQ from some sort of hospital-induced cabin fever. Shifting next to Chaos, the gunslinger favored the cat with another full-body stroke before standing and going to the fridge. By his reckoning, Angeal would be home by about 1800, which left him twenty minutes to make dinner and clean up the living room. Throwing some packaged takeout he’d ordered onto the stove, the ebon-haired gunslinger turned to grab a dishrag; which he then used to wipe down the hard surfaces before setting the plates out on the kitchen island and pouring water into two tumblers. They’d had their routine even when the younger man was degrading, and he hadn’t wanted to make things too different afterwards...mostly because he didn’t want to make it seem like he was more attentive now that the former General was well. 

Setting the timer on the coffee pot for later, the former Turk exited the living room to take his leathers off and change into a pair of slacks and a sweatshirt, leaving his bandanna on the bedside table. Chaos chased him in but didn’t linger; preferring to peek his yellow eyes around the door frame before darting back to the living room. The sound of the front door gave Vincent pause and he straightened from his position next to the bed to reenter the communal space. Angeal was backing into the living room with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. It was common for the younger man to spend some time in the training room in the evening. He didn’t work with any heavy armor or weapons-and certainly not the Buster Sword-but he did train with some of the Thirds and he claimed it helped him sleep better at night. Vincent had been reluctant to agree to the concept at first, but the exercise and the time spent with his men truly did seem to lift the younger man’s spirits. The crimson-eyed man was favored with an affectionate smile as the former General locked the door behind him and bent down to pet Chaos who immediately rolled onto his back to display his stomach in an imperious sort of manner. 

“I think he missed you,” the gunslinger said dryly. “Usually when I’m gone he sits in my chair but today he was sitting in your chair.” 

At his comment, the smile he’d been offered widened into a grin that lighted up Angeal’s sapphire eyes, softening his aquiline features… For a moment, it was hard not to remember how the ailment that had been eating away at his lover had faded the beautiful color of those irises; but the ebon-haired gunslinger forewent that image in favor of observing strong digits rubbing Chaos’ belly while with his other hand, the younger man unlaced his boots. Putting down his duffel bag right by the door, his partner took the cat up in his arms as he toed off his footwear and reverted his gaze back to his. “Did he now?” Two pairs of eyes followed the subject of the General’s query as it tried to wriggle free, which prompted Angeal to let it down on the coffee table while his companion’s strides closed the distance between them. 

“I missed  _ you _ .” was the affectionate whisper before strong calloused palms held onto his elbows while the former Commander drew him forward for a chaste kiss. “Been thinking about you all day.” And it was a little hard not to shiver at how those words were uttered; as his partner’s hand rose to card through his hair and draw it forward to let it cascade over his shoulder, cerulean irises following the movement with some sort of enthralled expression.

Tilting his head, Vincent lifted his chin in order to supplicate another kiss...just because he could. Warm lips met him somewhere in the middle, and he gave himself to it because it was good and it was grounding. ...It was also very easy to become distracted. Since Angeal’s reversion back into good health, it had become somewhat difficult to keep their hands off of each other. There were times when he would smugly-and a little bit illicitly-shiver to himself over immortal strength and somewhat stupid, childish hormone-driven things that he never would have thought otherwise in any other situation. And the mouth currently supplicating his was heady and warm, and he was hungry in more ways than one. Here, the younger man’s scent was cohesive with the gunslinger’s association with comfort and passion all wrapped up in a soluble bundle. Lifting one hand to cup his partner’s jaw Vincent breathed in and pressed close.

Chaos gave an irritated meow before trotting into the kitchen with his tail held high.

Breaking away, the two of them laughed-somewhat breathlessly-before the former Turk nudged their foreheads together...swaying once before going still again.

“I missed you too,” he replied, toeing socked feet with those of his own. They remained as they were for a moment, and the older man let his eyes slide shut in order to soak it in. Angeal spent some of his day in Administration flitting from place to place. With Sephiroth in his prior position, he was free to take up what he needed or wanted to, but he would need to make a decision in terms of his long-term goals soon. He knew-somewhat instinctively-that his son and his partner wouldn’t stay forever...that their positions in Shinra were tenuous at best and both of them were itching somewhat to get away. When his lover’s eyes had flitted in the direction of the smell coming from the kitchen several times, he chuckled. “I ordered takeout, I’m afraid. You’re just in time to watch me finish warming it up.” 

“Do you think it could wait a few minutes longer?” When the older man winged a dark eyebrow upwards, the General added sheepishly; his usually warm hands that were slightly cold at fingertips cradled both of his in them and held on. “It’s alright… There’s just something I’ve been wanting to tell you.” And it was odd to see Angeal nervous, because that was what the ex-Turk was reading from his body language. That was enough to make him a bit hesitant, made him linger there as he observed the usually stern features in front of him. And again, the younger man was patient with him; one of his strong palms left its post to brush over his onyx mane before settling on the gunman’s shoulder. Vincent ventured to guess that something must have relented in his features because the slight frown that had been edging its way onto dark eyebrows disappeared before having the chance to take full form. But if it had been relief, it was momentary; because right after his non-verbal affirmation, his companion decided to start the strangest of lectures. Although, not before letting his head droop and giving a self-depreciating laugh.

“I’m no good at this, but I really do love you Vincent. I know I’ve told you before, and I’m going to tell you again, as a reminder or just for the sake of reminiscing old times... Not that it’s that old, but… You’ve stayed beside me through thick and thin, you’ve always supported me, been there for me even when I was beside myself in madness. And you’ve cared for me during my illness...it makes it feel longer than it really has been.” And those eyes had a faraway look for a moment, a wan smile playing on pale lips as his lover recounted. “I think it’s been there since when I first met you in Nibelheim, some sort of understanding...before we even knew each other; but you’ve come to know me...you’ve become an integral individual in my life-and my apologies if I’m not as well-spoken as Genesis-but it happened so fast and on such a deep level that sometimes when I think about it, it leaves me breathless and wanting you even more than I already do.” Letting go of their points of contact, the former Commander stepped back slightly; a flush dusting high cheekbones even as his hands stuffed themselves in the pockets of his pants, an onyx-wreathed head ducking momentarily. And right at the exact moment Vincent wanted to ask what the younger man was getting at-because it was so unlike Angeal to weave sentences around the point-the latter continued. “I know this makes me a selfish person, and you have every right to be thoroughly and utterly upset and mad with me… It’d be understandable really, because I don’t want you to feel obligated to bind yourself to an undead man but…”

The frown on the gunman’s brow couldn’t get any deeper, but it seemed that he had miscalculated. Because his lover promptly decided to kneel in front of him and take something out...a box…in front of blue, blue eyes...and “Vincent, will you marry me?”

Vincent was-appropriately-stunned.

Not in the sense of the fact that he didn’t  _ want  _ to marry Angeal, but because he’d never thought anyone would ever want to marry him. He’d never considered anything in the realm of nuptials. Ever. He’d told himself on several occasions that it wasn’t in the cards for him...that he wasn’t romantic enough, that he wasn’t exactly worth spending several thousand gil on for a ring or a ceremony. The gunslinger had also never thought that he’d be on the opposite end of the proposal; that he would be the one being knelt before and supplicated, and there was something so foreign about that in a way that left him shivering. Not in a bad way, of course, in the sense of being valued so deeply...in the sense of love and unspoken words. The feeling behind it all was so powerful he felt like his soul was bared before him. Because, obviously, somebody had hit his poor Angeal over the head to think that he’d be  _ unlucky  _ to spend the rest of his mortal life with someone so utterly kind and caring and-of course- _ handsome.  _ Someone who would remain eternally young even while he aged...while he withered away. And some part of him whispered that it was selfish for  _ him  _ to accept...for him to bind the younger man to him when he was eventually going to leave him. But Angeal had asked...had gotten down onto his knees and looked at him with those beautiful sapphire eyes and asked for his heart, and he was helpless. So when he reached out to cup the contours of that hopeful but reticent visage, stroked his thumb over parted lips with trembling digits his mind was already made up. 

_ “Yes,”  _ he breathed. “And it’s not  _ obligated... _ you ridiculous-” Vincent stumbled over his words. “- _ Beautiful-”  _ dropping to his knees to join his partner he laughed, disbelievingly, eyes wide and uncomprehending. “ _ -Yes,  _ Angeal. I’ll marry you, and I’ll be the luckiest individual in the world to have done so.” 

And the wide eyed look he received with something so disbelievingly shivering in their cerulean depths-like the older man had just granted his lover his utmost wish-could be called even more ridiculous, on a wholly affectionate and endearing level that there was simply no words for it. And yet, despite all this, despite how stunned both of them were more or less, Angeal drew him forward; pulled him against the strong line of his physicality, and the ring was forgotten as the General buried his face in his hair to nuzzle the side of his neck, to breathe him in like he always did… There was something really intimate about this, about the arm that had held the ring out for him looped around his neck, and how the other hand seemed to be pulling him even closer to the younger man’s body as though trying to reassure him of the reality of gunman’s answer. Vincent had just started trying to comprehend this, trying to come up with how to respond that wasn’t wholly awkward- _ and had he just called Angeal ridiculous in the middle of a proposal? _ In the meantime, his companion, his soon-to-be fiancé…and it was kind of ridiculous putting himself and that word in one sentence because he’d been so convinced that it was never going to happen…his lover pulled back, and he seemed to be so happy that he was on the verge of tears.

“Thank you.” was a breathless reply. And not on the verge anymore because right then, a single tear rolled down his lover’s cheek; the younger man wiped it away with the back of his palm, blushing roseate even as he laughed. It was such a merry thing that Vincent couldn’t bring himself to resent the saline droplet that had sprung free. “Silly.” The General mumbled to himself in a somewhat self-conscious manner before their gazes locked again, and Vincent could drown in their joy. “Ridiculous really, but I love you. I  _ love  _ you Vincent.” A kiss was bestowed on his forehead. “Thank you.” A calloused palm brushed the side of his face while those kind eyes observed his visage; as though it was the most beautiful of tapestries wrought before the dark-haired First, one which he was intent on committing to his memory. “I am the luckiest individual in the world to have you by my side… Thank you, Vincent, for just being who you are. You honor me… I’m blessed trul-...”

“-If you’re blessed then I’m  _ doubly  _ blessed,” Vincent cut in, and then immediately felt horrible for doing so. His mortification must have shown somewhat on his face because Angeal laughed and kissed him again and it took them several minutes to resurface from it, by which time both of them were both breathless and a little more than flustered. “Let’s look at this ring,” the gunslinger murmured, bringing the former General’s arm back ‘round and prising open his fingers. The silver circlet glittering in his partner’s palm was simplistic in the sense that it was mostly unadorned save for the letters  _ ‘A’  _ and  _ ‘V’  _ with the symbol  _ ‘&’  _ resting symmetrically between. This was wrought in elegant scripted engravement on the inside. Heavy, unblemished and minimalistic; not too thick and not too thin, and it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Because it was-to him-a representation of their love...something pure and uncomplicated...something that just  _ was... _ so natural and so brilliant wrought in circular physical form. “I didn’t get you one,” the gunslinger declared a bit stupidly. He blushed furiously and ducked his head. “Though I wasn’t expecting anything like this,” he added. “It’s beautiful. Perfect. Like you.”

A big warm calloused palm brushed the side of his face again, gently coaxing him to raise his head and find those breathtaking sapphire pools that he could drown in gazing back at him; filled with so much affection and adoration that it was unbelievable that he was the one they were directed at. “You’ve given me so much more.” Another kiss was bestowed on his forehead yet again. “And you deserve a lot more than this...it’s nothing compared to how beautiful of an individual you are.” Before Vincent could open his mouth to object, however, Angeal sniffed in the general direction of the kitchen; his eyes darted toward their dinner which was quite possibly burning on the stove judging by how the former General scrambled to his feet to turn it off and place the pot on the bottom of the sink. Moisture sizzled and a cloud of steam rose as his partner turned around to gaze sheepishly at him, blushing beet red.

Having followed the younger man into the kitchen, the gunslinger put a hand to his mouth, eyes crinkling around the edges as mirth rose somewhat inexorably inside of him. It was hopeless, however, to contain his laughter for very long and when it left him it was something open and heartfelt and a little breathless in the face of all of it. He didn’t particularly care about the meal, it was a write-off anyway and they could order again if needed. Once he started he couldn’t stop, and eventually, Angeal joined him before the former Turk closed the space between them and slid the hand not occupied by the ring through familiar, warm palms. Cradling strong digits against his cheek and leaning into them, he grinned...though it was a fleeting thing and somewhat rare for him. Sobering, he opened his mouth.

“There’s something to be said,” he began, mirth coloring his tone. “About a proposal being so momentous that those involved nearly burn down an apartment.” When his partner-his  _ fiancee,  _ he corrected himself somewhat smugly-continued to look somewhat mortified, Vincent leaned forward to kiss him. “I don’t think I’ll ever see myself as beautiful,” he murmured against soft lips. “But it means more than you know that you see me as so, and it means even more that you see me as beautiful enough to marry.” Pulling back, he eyed the sink. “Do you want to order something else?” he queried. “Or did you want to go out?”

“I think we can order the same thing again. But we can also go out if you want.” After a glance toward the windows of the far wall of the living room however, his partner added. “Though I think judging by the hour, we’d have to go somewhere near and on foot. It’s going to be too crowded on the streets.” Shaking a head of ebon tresses, Vincent communicated his agreement with the first option even as he picked up his phone from the countertop and ordered the same thing again. And while he was at it, Angeal snuck up-not so stealthily per se as evident by the wan smile playing on the gunslinger’s lips unbeknownst to the younger man-behind his back to place big palms on his hips and press up against him, a strong chin digging slightly in his shoulder. Flipping the phone shut, Vincent brought his hands together where he was still cradling the ring as the dark-haired First spoke quietly. “You don’t have to wear it. We could always get a chain but I wasn’t sure…” There was a faint flutter of hair where the former General pressed a kiss against his mane.

Slowly turning in the circle of the younger man’s arms, Vincent tilted his head up just slightly, so their noses were bumping against each other. Taking up the ring, he slid it onto its respective finger...feeling a quiet kind of thrill as it settled on his phalangeal joint before sliding past. And there was something  _ right  _ about it...the feeling of cool metal against his skin. It was a solid, safe feeling, much like the individual before him. Lifting his palm slightly, he held it to the light to watch the silver of it play under halogen beams. And Angeal was watching him all the while, a kind of soft, tender depth to those beautiful blue eyes. Lowering his arm, the gunslinger let his eyes wander over his partner’s visage...over the strong lines of his jaw...the sharp definition of his brows. When the crimson-eyed former Turk leaned in for another kiss he was met in the middle, sliding one hand up a forearm to clutch a muscled bicep as the other slid into dark tresses. 

And if Angeal leaned more heavily into him, pressing him back against the counter, he didn’t mind. Shivered a bit and opened himself to the ingress of his partner into his space. The room seemed to dim before them, and he thought vaguely of the takeout but it was hard to with so much before him. The hands at his hips tightened somewhat, and he knew that the former General didn’t miss the way his breath hitched, the way his body jerked into the movement before he could stop it. Large palms squeezed his sides just-slightly and the flush that bloomed over his cheeks was barely-there but noticeable all the same.

“I think,” Vincent said raggedly. “I want to wear it.”

One of those strong hands left his side to take his, the one with the ring on it up, and raise it between them; higher, and Angeal’s digits curled his over so the younger man could brush his lips against the same phalangeal joint and then against the back of his palm. At that, Vincent could almost feel the heat in his cheeks deepen, but so did the affection swirling in the pair of lapis lazuli irises gazing into his soul. And there were unspoken words hanging there somewhere, but the former General seemed to forgo them in favor of reverting his attention back to the gunslinger’s mouth. Every slide of lips, every faint, moist smack, the issue of their breaths, the rustle of their clothes together in the otherwise quiet of the apartment was another flame added to the slow burning fire between them.

Pulling back simultaneously but not too far and just enough so they could resurface for a moment, a kind and tender smile started unraveling his partner’s lips into a contagiously breathless grin… “I know this is possibly far off in the future, even though, surprisingly, I’m finding my patience failing me about this…” A pause, and Angeal looked down in the same manner that he did when he was shy; it was so endearing Vincent was almost tempted to make the younger man face him just to see those pale cheekbones dusted with just the faintest shade of cerise. “Do you have anything specific in mind for the...wedding?” Those sapphire irises were avoiding him, and the former General was positively blushing. “Any place you want it to be? Any particular way? I’m sorry if I’m jumping way ahead in terms of this…and this might be too overwhelming in one day-do tell me to stop.”

Forcing himself to focus through the haze of desire that had suffused him was difficult but he managed it. Reverting his mentality, the gunslinger considered the question carefully. Truthfully, he couldn't think of a specific place; though if he were perfectly honest, the locale didn't matter to him so much as the company. The company-of course-being Angeal. He didn't think the younger man would be partial to saying their vows on the landing pad or in Administration, and neither was he, HQ was rather out of the question. There was always the option of a destination wedding but neither of them were that fancy and the cost would be exorbitant. Briefly, he considered Banora but their encounter with the Goddess somewhat tarnished that image. His partner's childhood town was beautiful, but he didn't want to dredge up old memories or misgivings. Letting his fingers play over his lover's shirtsleeves, he tilted his head. 

“Did you have any place in mind?” he asked curiously. “I don't mind discussing it. I suppose that means we have to invite people.” When Angeal gave him an amused glance, he laughed a bit. “Well, we do,” he amended dryly. “I'm afraid I'm a bit of a festive wallflower and nowhere near a wedding planner.” An ebon eyebrow winged its way upwards. “Speaking of wedding planners, do we need one? And when are we going to tell…” he trailed off as his thoughts caught up with him. “How do you think Sephiroth will take it?” he asked, suddenly anxious. “Do I have…” And he cut himself off again, because he was afraid that the former General would take his panic as an indication that he didn't want to get married, which was the opposite of the truth. “What do we tell them? How will Genesis take it?” 

The younger man seemed to have wanted to address something because he opened his mouth only to close it again. The change in his focus was almost a physical thing as he tuned into his anxiety instead of addressing how they were going to plan their wedding. “Honestly, I don’t know how either of them will take it. Though knowing Genesis, I think he’d think I need to examine my head. He’d quite possibly roll on the floor laughing, but I have absolutely no clue how Sephiroth’s going to be...and do I have what?” A slight frown, and worry was starting to cloud those sapphire eyes even as those kind warm palms came to settle over his shoulders. “We don’t have to think about any of this now.” Angeal’s mouth pressed against his temple. “I’m sorry for rushing ahead, I hope I didn’t ruin it for you...your happiness, it’s all that matters to me.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Vincent said hastily, cringing inwardly at the very thought. “And I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. I think we could just take it as it comes, and not worry about it too much right now.” Bringing the topic back ‘round to his lover’s original question, he paused before speaking again. “Did you have somewhere in mind? I’m terrible for this sort of thing, and I think you might be more familiar with the Midgar area regardless. What areas allow for venues and the like...what options we might have in terms of guests.” Running a hand through his hair, he exhaled before closing his eyes. “I was going to ask if I have the  _ right  _ to get married...to pursue happiness when I left him to so little happiness for twenty years. But you can’t compare the two, it’s not fair...it’s not fair to him and it’s not fair to you. It’s just something you worry about as a parent.” He laughed, a little bit guiltily. “And I think  _ I’ve  _ ruined all this, with thinking it over too thoroughly, but I want to marry you, Angeal. First and foremost, that’s what I want.” 

A tender smile pulled his partner’s pale lips into a gentle curve, and briefly, as those warm palms cradled the sides of his face, Vincent wondered about how physically expressive Angeal was being at the moment. Before he could comprehend that vein of thought more thoroughly however, that same mouth closed over his in yet another kiss among the many they had shared since the former General had arrived. Pulling back just for the width of a breath, the younger man leant their foreheads together, uttering in a quiet voice. “Nobody’s ruined anything. Most definitely not you.” A pause. “It’s understandable to worry, but I feel it’s not my place…maybe you could invite him over, have some alone time together and discuss it? Though, preferably not over a spar.” An aquiline nose nuzzled against his, and the dual chuckles that escaped betwixt them were something bright and somewhat breathtakingly happy; so much so that the ebon-haired gunslinger didn’t know what to do with himself for an infinitesimal moment. And if the dark-haired First pressed close again and pushed him back against the counter for the second time during their time sequestered to the kitchen, Vincent couldn’t mind but secretly appreciate the openly physical manifestation of his partner’s need. With a pair of warm lips mouthing along his throat and laying timid nips and flicks of tongue, the former General seemed to have forgotten about their exchange before there was an issue of hot breath that sent shivers trembling down his spine. The younger man withdrew again, not all the way, but just so. “I want you to know that these are just ideas I had in my head, and your opinion matters to me first and foremost because it’s something about  _ us _ , not just about what I want.” A pause, and a more focused expression settled on the pale handsome visage in front of him. “I prefer it to be done with as little fanfare as possible, so something small? I would’ve invited  _ Zack _ , but choosing any of the men now I’d be playing favorites, and then we’d end up having to invite the whole army…” A look of mock-incredulity passed over Angeal’s face, the humor veiling the pain the ex-Turk was certain of its existence, even though nothing in those lapis eyes showed. “So, maybe Reeve and Lazard? I guess we could invite Veld, unless he decides to convert you _ -how many times has it been so far? _ ” 

Against his will, Vincent let out an inglorious, choked out laugh that was more of a snort. At his entirely indecorous and nonverbal vociferation, his partner pulled back and managed to look a little bit wounded. Kissing him to make up for it, the gunslinger let a hand sail across his partner's jaw to toy momentarily with his ear.

“I’ve yet to be converted back into Turkism,” he said, letting his voice color with just the slightest hint of teasing. And again, he was distracted by the ingress of his partner’s mouth, this time inundated with just the hint of a smile but the manner in which one of those large hands toyed with the hem of his sweater, calloused fingers brushing against his skin...it didn’t really matter. “But you might be right about him trying to sway me at the altar. And I’ll talk to Sephiroth.” Sobering somewhat, the crimson-eyed man pulled away. “Zack would have been ecstatic to be your best man, from what you’ve told me of him, and rightly so.” When the grief on his lover’s visage became a more prominent thing, he let the hand at the former General’s ear drop to clutch his shoulder. “And I think I’d prefer small over anything, yes. We’re in agreement over that.” Someone chose that moment to knock on the front door and they remained as they were for a moment before the former Turk sighed and gently nudged his lover away so he could get it. Pausing at the foyer, he stopped to look over his shoulder. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Angeal’s answering chuckle was response enough.

It turned out to be the takeout, and he ferried it back into the kitchen in order to throw it onto the counter. Angeal was pulling plates from the cabinets-even though there was a pair on the counter already-and he stopped for a moment just to look at him...to acknowledge his solid,  _ vital  _ presence in the apartment. It still made him shiver a little bit...the knowledge that the dark-haired First was there...healthy and present. Blue eyes caught him watching and the smile he was favored with was unduly affectionate. He was-effectively-caught between eating dinner and getting undressed on the spot. Because despite the fact that the dark-haired First’s expression wasn’t lascivious at all, the way he looked at him was enough to drive him to distraction. 

“Should we eat?” he asked, trying to shove the lustful undertone in his voice to the wayside. 

As though reading his thoughts, or maybe it was because they were so attuned to one another that they were really on the same page, the curve of those pale lips took on a playful twist before Angeal uttered just as jovially. “I think we should, or we might end up with yet another burnt dinner at this rate.”

It was hard to resist the contagiousness of his lover’s mirth, and Vincent found himself mirroring the expression he’d been favored with as he sat down. The dark-haired First took up the task of transferring their meal to their plates before following his suit. 

Their dinner was a more or less tranquil affair. And while it was obvious in the depths of those aquamarine eyes that Angeal was mulling something over in his head-perhaps to the point of overthinking it-the younger man said nothing. Whatever it was, it wasn’t enough to take away from the way one of those strong hands reached for his over the counter, from the brush of their digits along pale fingers, against wide palms and just shy of wrists… There was something deeply endearing about how the man sitting in front of him gazed at him…the weight of it following his movements as they both silently ate. The crimson-eyed ex-Turk wanted, on more than one occasion, to ask what it was that was bothering the former General, but eventually decided not to push, unless it became another drawn out thing like-... Quickly, he shoved that thought to the wayside as well. 

Having finished with their meals, he took up their plates and the cutlery to take care of in the sink before Angeal’s fingers plucked them from his hands. Those of his other hand encircled his wrist before the dishes were deposited against the stainless steel surface. “We’ll take care of them later.” The nervousness from before was back again, though there was something different about it. “I… I think the reason I’m really hesitant about this is because I know your stance on this, and I know Genesis and Sephiroth’s as well...” Blue eyes were avoiding his again, opting instead to look down at their feet. “I know I’m repeating myself, but that day is just as much about me as it’s about you. And while I know you won’t look at it that way-that I’m choosing the cheapest option available-because that’s not-” Clearly his partner was struggling with whatever he wanted to say, even as one of his hands rose to card in onyx strands and worry at the nape of the younger man’s neck. “There are other venues available, ones that are certainly more beautiful, and definitely tinged with less… Maybe it’s not a good idea after all. Never mind what I said.” Finally looking up, a smile was proffered before it faltered at the sight of his visage. “I’m sorry.” And it was deeply apologetic. “Forget what I said, it really doesn’t matter.”

Vincent was-for the moment-somewhat confused.

Blinking, he focused on his lover before looking down at the sink. By his recollection, Angeal hadn't mentioned a venue, but there was always the possibility he'd overlooked it. Almost immediately, he was inundated with a kind of anxious guilt because the younger man had been working so hard to make this something tangible and if he'd been wayward in his concentration that was entirely his fault. Racking his memory, he acknowledged recollective defeat before opening his mouth and then closing it again. He was-intrinsically-aware that this looked a lot like hesitation, which did not help matters in the slightest. And it did matter, because he wanted to know but he didn't know how to ask without seeming like he'd had his head in the clouds the entire time. In his defense, he was rather over the moon in regards to the proposal, so that could be considered a facet but it wasn't a legitimate excuse.

Realistically, he'd be happy to marry Angeal in a mud puddle.

The minute the idea crossed his mind he dismissed it because it was ludicrous, but it wasn't far off from the truth. The individual before him made him incredibly happy, and he was content to share that happiness wherever the younger man might wish simply because their relationship was of such great value. A courthouse...a cathedral...a cottage...the specifics of it didn't matter to him. A marriage was-in essence-the ultimate celebration of love, of commitment. Vincent was already committed to the former General, and he was hopelessly in love with him. They were choosing matrimony because they wanted to, not because they needed to. Therefore, it was equally important for them to communicate their desires in terms of it to one another, and perhaps that was what the dark-haired First was struggling with. Turning to face his blue-eyed companion, the former Turk let his fingers slip somewhat until the ones at his wrist were threaded through them. Lifting the other hand, he cupped both his and his lover’s in his palm and tilted his head. 

“I’m sure whatever you have in mind will be wonderful,” he said quietly. “And it does matter, Angeal. Your opinion always matters. This isn’t just about me, it’s about us.”

The former General pressed his lips into a thin line before seemingly coming to a decision. With their gazes locked and those eternally observing blue eyes on his visage, Angeal finally spoke his mind. “Exactly because of that you don’t have to agree to this if you don’t want to. I know this is superfluous, and you know better, but my word isn’t law, far from it, especially in a matter like this, but...I was thinking about Aerith’s church.” A pause, and his lover hurried on. “It’s beautiful and simple. I know it’s nothing compared to other options we could have and…” A sigh. “I know you might not want her there even, so we really don’t have to.”

He understood why his partner was reticent.

Aerith followed the Planet. He could not-in good conscience-understand it because of what the Planet had done to his partner. That did not, however, force him to have petty misgivings in terms of the younger man’s friendship with her. He wasn’t going to come between that just because he was angry at the Goddess; it wasn’t his place, and he was too old to hold grudges for shallow reasons. A part of him was a little wounded by the fact that his lover could think that he’d forgo his wishes for such base resentments, but he was also cognizant of the fact that it was an indication that Angeal was thinking of him. And really,  _ Vincent  _ wasn’t the one who had to deal with immortality. Someday, he was going to die, and then his partner was going to face existence alone. His misgivings about some vengeful deity didn’t hold a candle to that. It wouldn’t be fair for him to refuse, and it wouldn’t be an indicator of his commitment. Taking a deep breath, the gunslinger let it go a few moments later...letting himself grasp the former General’s waist as he did so.

“Listen to me,” he said quietly. “I love you, and I’m marrying you because I love you, not because of who might or might not be there, and certainly not because of my opinions regarding someone else’s faith. That’s not integral to who I am.” Leaning into the younger man, he favored him with a kiss. “I think the church is a good idea, it’s quiet, peaceful. And if it’s something you want, why would I say no?” Leaning back, he smiled crookedly. “You and Miss. Gainsborough are friends, I’m not going to come between that. Why would I? What kind of partner would I be if I did that?” Stroking his fingers through ebon locks, he closed his eyes. “What the Planet did to you hurts me...because I know how lonely immortality is...I know what that’s like. But forgive me for being so selfish as to want you regardless.” 

Big warm palms settled on the sides of his neck as his lover simply gazed at him, a look fleeting across his visage that could’ve been him realizing his error but Vincent couldn’t be sure. “I never thought that you’d come between us… I won’t take your not wanting us to do it there or not wanting Aerith there to attend like that.” Leaning their foreheads together, Angeal’s dulcet tone dropped lower as he continued. “It doesn’t take away from the integrity of your personality in my eyes…it’s  _ not  _ going to affect how much I  _ value  _ you,  _ your  _ opinion,  _ your happiness _ …” Pale lips teased his, brushing close for just a breath before pulling back, but just slightly. A corner of the younger man’s mouth quirked upwards then, in a smile. “And I’m marrying you because I love you too…I will, always…but I don’t want to be selfish to have you agree to something that would take away from your happiness on that day.” Another timid kiss, or rather playful because those sapphire eyes were crinkled around the edges with enough mirth that was too much for the former General’s own good. And the crimson-gazed gunslinger couldn’t help but feel his own lips curving in a mirroring expression. “And you’re not forgiven…” A quiet chuckle even as the dark-haired First’s voice dropped lower; as he drew infinitesimally closer, mouth parted over unspoken words. Vincent wanted to close that distance, felt his eyelids drop to half-mast while not being able to tear his gaze away. “Because you’re not selfish...and there’s nothing to forgive.” And with that Angeal finally bridged the gap and closed his mouth around his, fingers of one hand relinquishing their post to dive in his ebony locks as the soldier drew him closer still.

The older man felt his lips curl into some semblance of a smile even as he gave himself to the gesture. Of all the many, notable and gracious things that were his partner, his kissing was one of the most prominent. Not only because it was good but because it was sweet and soft, subtle yet precise and it made him  _ burn.  _ And he’d been waiting for this so long tonight already, waiting to wrap himself up in the physical semblance of their affections. This was the second time that night that he found himself leaning back against a counter as his mouth was artfully requisitioned; and it was no less sirenic, no less ardent than the first. At this point, he wasn’t particularly fastidious in regards to what kind of release he garnered...he just wanted it. Vincent wasn’t unduly physical in a romantic sense but he was still a man. His mind was old but his body was young and right now his body was  _ hungry.  _ Still, there was the question of response, of reciprocation in consideration of what had been given to him. Reluctantly, the former Turk pulled away only to find himself chased and he was forced to talk between the exchange of their lips even as his physicality shuddered...as his breath caught and his hips surged forward.

“It’s not- _ hmm- _ it’s not selfish,” he replied raggedly. “I think it’s a good idea, something simplistic, something familiar.” Angeal paused and seemed to be gathering a response but the older man made an impatient noise. “ _ Kiss me,”  _ he muttered, and then felt it all the way down to his toes when his demand was granted. Deep, warm and prurient with just the tip of a tongue and his eyelids were suddenly unbearably heavy. “Besides,” Vincent continued breathlessly. “Maybe I want to marry you in a church, just for the propriety of it and the way you’d look at the altar.” The look he was given at this comment was somewhat sardonic but mostly lustful, and he smiled to show that he was teasing before catching the former General’s hand and bringing it downwards to the burgeoning tent of his erection underneath his slacks, squeezing as he did so. “You’re not taking away from my happiness,” he continued, his voice thick. “You’re giving me happiness.” 

The groan he received in response was something thick and heavy between them, and Angeal’s presence was suddenly everywhere, just like the times at the beginning of their relationship and yet so wholly different; from where his lips had ensnared him in a deeply passionate and yet smoldering kiss, to the way his digits of his free hand had buried themselves in the waterfall of his thick mane, to the gradual ingress of his lean, virile physicality chasing when Vincent’s pulled back. And again, the crimson-eyed ex-Turk’s thoughts scattered as the flame of his desire was rekindled into a slow, burning fire. The hand in his hair dropped yet again to the hem of his sweater, diving in between the fabric to trail meandering, calloused fingertips against his back; upper and upper even as a sigh fell from his lips betwixt their kiss. The hand against his hard-on left its post to grip his hip, and the younger man started guiding them backwards toward their bedroom. The smile that broke between them was something shared, mutual. They had to break away for an infinitesimal moment when Angeal called him  _ ‘Beautiful’ _ ; affectionate like the gunslinger was his world, and the husky tone in which it had been uttered trembled down the older man’s spine to pool in the bottom of his stomach. 

Again, Vincent was a little bit surprised, left a little bit breathless as those strong hands slowly and then impatiently divested him of the fabric hugging his torso, a burning mouth descending against the strong pitter-patter of his jugular as the sweater fluttered to the ground from Angeal’s digits in a red cloud. There was a brief chuckle, followed by a  _ ‘I don’t think we’d get to the bedroom at this rate’ _ before the ministrations that would soon reduce him to a  _ burning  _ desirous mess were continued.

The play of his partner’s hands on his bare flesh was a sensual thing. Very rarely did Vincent fail to stop and observe as palms traversed his torso...swept over epidermis in that covetous but demonstrative manner. And he savored the warmth they left in their wake, the slow rise of heat that became a thrumming, deep-seated throb betwixt topicle cells until his head was heavy with it. Ambrosial, sybaritic, and heady...a wave of aching, velvety urge, and the gunslinger heard himself make a soft, throaty noise. Dipping his neck, the ebon-haired gunslinger let his mouth worry the hollow of his partner’s throat, just under his chin; tongue flickering out to taste before he drew it back in order to suck lightly. With equal avidity, the older man reached out to divest the former General of his top, fingers fumbling slightly before the blue-eyed Soldier got the message and helped to move things along. The fabric joined his sweater on the ground and was forgotten as he splayed his hands over a broad chest and relished the slight shiver he got in response to his actions as he was drawn into a kiss once more.

They could-quite possibly-not make it to the bedroom as Angeal had predicted.

Not with the way the younger man was fingering the hem of his slacks...and certainly not with the way they were practically glued to each other. When a leg slid between his somewhat, Vincent groaned, though it was cut off with the ingress of his companion’s tongue. Hot, wet and yielding but pervasive...his head was spinning and his body felt too-hot and too-tight. Looping his arm underneath the dark-haired soldier’s, Vincent let it slide under Angeal’s armpit and up again to grasp his shoulder from the back...permitted his free palm its wanderlust until it was threading into dark locks. Nipping at a lower lip he retreated momentarily to drink in the color that had bloomed across his lover’s cheeks, the flush of his mouth and the potent intensity of his eyes. And there was a hand stroking down his spine...fluttering across the lowermost dip as he leaned into the touch...as he shuddered for it and threw his head back. The gunslinger’s psyche was a scarlet haze...a tempestuous maelstrom of need and distraction and  _ yes, good.  _ Angeal’s name was a distracted, slurred vociferation...something wrought in desire...heavy and wanton. 

It was easy to lose himself to the all-encompassing heat of the virility and vitality of his lover’s body. And how could he not under the weight of that eternally observant blue gaze, darkened with just the right amount of desire? How could he not come undone when their hands were both now wandering brushes of heat that expanded upon contact and engulfed Vincent’s physicality? When they added to the sea of carnality roiling within him? 

The play of the coolness of the living room’s air against his heated flesh was a heady thing especially when it sent delicious shivers down his spine; when a heady burning mouth trailed along the goosebumps flecking his skin, followed by random brushes of an equally warm tongue. The way those sapphire eyes gazed up at him from where Angeal was kneeling at his feet again was enough to make him go weak in the knees until he had to clutch the back of the couch, the rustle of vinyl disrupting the cacophony of their almost silent and yet too loud breaths in the quiet of the room.

Angeal-in his opinion-should not have to kneel before anyone.

It was different-of course-when he was kneeling in order to flick open the catch to his slacks...nuzzling along the outline of his erection before pulling the fabric away. Warm breath ghosted over his aching need and Vincent had to bite his lip to keep from being unduly noisy, watched through hooded eyes as the younger man’s tongue flickered out to run along the underside. And his breath was coming short through his nose, his mouth feeling suddenly thick and irriguous as he focused all his will-power on keeping still...on holding back. There were hands clutching his hips...palms warm at his sides, and the gunslinger let his right arm descend to cover one with his own, thumb stroking across the knuckles. And it was good...so good as the aforementioned appendage stroked over the head of his cock, as it tongued him idly...almost teasingly. The former Turk let the fingers of his other hand stroke through onyx hair...ring glittering between obsidian threads. His companion was mouthing along the inside of his thigh, sucking hungrily, and his hips jerked involuntarily. The groan that spilled forth this time was low and ragged, his eyes glassy as he let his head roll back.

_ “‘Geal…”  _

At his vociferation, a moist hot mouth answered the forward movement of his hips. A gradual ingress over the apex of his desire as the hand he’d been caressing at his hip turned over to intertwine their fingers together, digits tightening and relaxing in rhythm with the way his partner was unraveling him. Slow...fast...and again slow, and those blue flames were on him again, Angeal bringing their joint hands to the younger man’s onyx mane. It came naturally for Vincent to thread his fingers through those soft locks, to revel again in their contrasting with his and his companion’s pale skin. The realization though, dawned on him later, as the former General hummed around his cock, and that had him tightening his hold in those long strands which was rewarded with a throaty groan. The answering wave of heat that rose within him with that unuttered verbalization and the way his lover blinked at him slowly was really enough for the ex-Turk to chase that sensation over and over again until they’d reach the culmination of their desire. But no...because Angeal’s hand which had at one point dropped between the younger man’s legs had to come up to try and seek along his perineum for that hidden ruche.

_ Oh yes. _

He could definitely-Vincent decided-get behind that. His mouth fell open a bit stupidly as he pushed into the impetus of the movement...felt the press of an index finger against his entrance and attempted to retrieve his sanity. He wanted to lose himself in those eyes...wanted to drown in them and in the pleasure that was coiling up his spine...in the soft, electric beginnings of euphoria between his legs. Again he was scrambling, his hands searching over the edge of the couch to hunt around in the cushion before coming up with a bottle of lube. His lover took it without preamble; popped the cap and utilized that which was within, and their momentary pause was forgotten. Circular motion...gentle inward thrusts that stroked along the circumference of him until the musculature gave and a dexterous digit was sliding inwards. Hot, slick and seeking...the gunslinger nearly choked on his tongue at the initial ingress...felt his breath come out shaky and somewhat hesitant. Angeal hummed again, and this time the noise that left him was almost a whimper but not quite. Because the former General knew exactly how to drive him to  _ ruin  _ without even trying...simply by seeking his pleasure alone.

Vincent wanted to touch...wanted to feel that mouth against his and he attempted to make his desires clear as a second finger breached him. His whole body felt like it was vibrating as he gently stilled the younger man’s movements by tangling a firm hand in his hair. And the gunslinger wanted him inside...wanted to feel the delirious..thick slide of the blue-eyed soldier’s length. They’d made love plenty of times since his recovery...sometimes slow and sweet...occasionally fast and hard. There was a bit of a thrill to it...roughness...something playful with that shiver of depravity that came with heedlessness. At the moment, he’d take it either way if only he could reciprocate. 

“Come here,” was the breathless supplication. 

It took a moment for his lover to acquiesce, but there was something to the stillness that followed the cessation of their movements. An almost inaudible sigh escaped through the part of his lips as those digits withdrew, Angeal slowly let go of his arousal before pressing a moist kiss against the crease where his thigh met groin. As the younger man raised himself to his full height, Vincent couldn’t stop his eyes from lingering on where his partner had freed his own erection from his own pants and underwear, the full flushed curve of it twitching and leaking precum-...

-he was snared in a kiss, chaste but for the moment. As his thoughts were about to scatter yet again, there was the velvety feel of yet another arousal against his as the former General took both of them in hand; it gave him pause, and then his thought processes were simply no more. The hand that had held onto his hips settled against the side of his neck, grounding, anchoring him despite Angeal seemingly not wanting to stop unraveling both of them. A pale forehead pressed against his, their breathing hot and heavy. 

“I’m here… Whatever you want…whatever you need...” was the breathless vocalization whispered betwixt their almost touching lips. 

Suspended...such a moment. Like a single grain of sand in an hourglass hovering just before the fall...turning, turning, turning. Everything seemed abruptly hyper-focused...the rasp of fingers against skin...the nuance of breath...the heavy, swollen pulse of arousal. Much like dust motes caught in a sunbeam; something swirling and scintillating, intangible but unanimous. Vincent could feel the feather-light dusting of his lashes against his cheeks as he inhaled unsteadily...as he rutted up into the movement in a slow, almost-lazy grind. Brushing the dark-haired First’s grasp away with affectionate playfulness, he allowed his hand to descend in order to travel the length of Angeal’s erection...let the heft of it settle in his palm before squeezing lightly. And the heaviness of the younger man’s breath was telling, the manner in which it grew rough and distracted...lids lowered slightly as half-moons of sapphire gazed at him through wreaths of onyx. His thumb smeared pearlescent beads of pre-ejaculate over the head just so he could watch those powerful hips jerk...just so he could observe in a kind of carnal hunger as his mind raced over the options before him...but he knew what he craved. He was more than ready...the absence of the former General’s fingers had left him aching for it. 

“I want you,” he murmured. “ _ Need  _ you.” 

Tilting his hips, he followed his declaration with a suggestive movement; guided the head of Angeal’s cock to the furrow of his entrance and let it settle there...allowed his spine to move indicatively, until the heft of his companion’s need was sliding between his ass cheeks. It was lucky-he reflected somewhat dimly-that the couch was of acceptable height...that he could spread himself there without worrying about the angle or about awkwardness. The gunslinger arched his neck to capture warm lips, let the kiss become a deep, searching thing even as he felt his cognizance unravel. Vincent let his free hand steady him on smooth vinyl, held himself upright even as he broke away to let his mouth wander the slope of a pale jawline.

“ _ Have me. _ ” 

The younger man drew back a little, blue eyes searching his visage through the haze of their pleasure for something he wasn’t going to find. Because Vincent was sure, he was ready, and then it didn’t take long at all… Even though they had to break away for a moment for Angeal to take the forgotten bottle of lube from the ground… Even though instead of acquiescing to his supplication immediately, his partner’s focus was distracted yet again, and instead, he settled for bringing him just to the edge of dizzying heights of euphoria before the ingress of an engorged head sobered him up a little bit. And the dark-haired First went slowly at it, agonizingly, and yet sweetly careful, to the point that by the time the younger man was seated within him they were both shivering, breathless wrecks. Their lips were locking and breaking off in a constant tug and brush, barely kissing, and yet there was something tangible about it; about how they were sharing the same hot and heavy inhalations and exhalations. Angeal’s hand kept brushing his ebony locks out of his forehead only to get tangled in the river of tresses, descending lower and lower to grip his backside. There was the firm brush of calloused fingers along the underside of his thigh as Vincent hooked it around a powerful waist, and they were unraveling. It was languid at first, but the former General didn’t want to let him resurface enough to breathe as he kept chasing that locus of pleasure within him; sapphire irises never leaving his visage as their undulating movements kept picking at the ex-Turk’s resolve to remain anchored to the here and now and to not lose himself to the sea of concupiscence. 

It wasn’t really fair.

And nor was the way that his name fell from those pale lips touched by the faintest shade of cerise.

“ _ Vincent. _ ” Breathless. Affectionate. Adoring. Imploring.

The aforementioned man shivered with his partner’s vocalization, clung to it in a soft, velvety psychic space as he was undone from the inside out. And despite the passion in it, despite the somewhat voltaic nature of it, there was still that undertone of affection. The air around them was suffused with it, and if the gunslinger let his imagination run a bit wild he could almost see it...like a mirage of shimmering water over a blacktop on a blistering summer day. Twisted and braided; entwined with the cold-hot proliferation of their predilection ‘till it was wrought weighty and opaque over his tongue. Pointed, purposeful thrusts left his thighs shaking with the electric flush of gratification that radiated outwards like an electrical current. All the while, he was observed in that careful, tender manner that felt like it was prickling over his flesh...like it was driving deep into his bones until his physicality was tremulous with it; not unlike the head of a timpani just struck. 

_ “Angeal.” _

Vincent’s fingers sunk into onyx locks, and he was lost to the rhythm of it...spun out like a protostellar formation hurtling through space. The older man buried his face in the strong column of his lover’s neck, gasped brokenly against his throat with trembling lips even as he moved to reciprocate...as he drove himself into the movement ‘till they found a tempo that suited them. And he couldn’t help but think of the moment as a culmination of so many other moments; the barely-there press of the ring on his finger seemed to solidify the concept. Because he had never wanted something so much that he hadn’t  _ known  _ he wanted until it was proffered to him freely. Angeal had done so guilelessly, had given him his heart with beautiful words and a silver circlet, and the simplicity of it was so pristine and pure it made him tremble. 

And he couldn’t help but vaguely think back on the imagery of dust motes pirouetting against the chartreuse backdrop of sunlight, of a fine spec of sand turning over and over along the passage of chronology, linear and yet in a constant never ending loop of forward movement; the recurring trek of constellations over seconds, minutes, hours...the starlight thread of time. And yet, here, Angeal’s hand at his neck descended, over his shoulder; lower across his chest in a broad sweep of a calloused palm, across, and then settled against his side, it felt like they were suspended in a moment, a frame of space-time. 

Vincent didn’t know, and really didn’t care how long they’d been at it, only that when their rhythm picked up, when it became a spine-bending thing, that powerful hand came to support him as he nearly fell over the back of the sofa; it held him there, and maybe there was a reason behind it because the angle of their coupling was  _ so perfect  _ now… Something must have shown on his face because at this point the crimson-eyed ex-Turk was barely cognizant of his own facial expressions, simply experiencing sensation… That something kept Angeal going, both of them consumed in the pursuit of the culmination of their efforts. A crown of a slightly damp onyx head settled just shy from where his neck met sternum, the younger man’s breathing heavy and hot against his heated skin. His movements disordered into the right kind of frenzy and that was when the ebon-haired gunslinger dimly realized that his partner was nearing the brink of his ecstasy.

Those and the nascent vociferation of his name…

“ _ Vinc-...! _ ”

The swell of his lover’s need within him was the pre-herald to his own end. Full, all-encompassing and finite, Vincent stiffened and moaned in a garbled and nonsensical manner as they reached the pinnacle of pleasure in unison. The auscultation of his body was mindless; something ripe and gratified as he clutched at the expanse of Angeal’s back with one hand, his eyes closing as he rode out his orgasm. Somewhat distractedly, he let the palm of his unoccupied hand thread through the sparse hairs at the nape of the younger man's neck; pressed down somewhat before relenting. They remained as they were; breathless and trembling... shivering with the aftershocks. The former General shifted somewhat to look at him and Vincent pressed a kiss between dark brows, smiling slightly when those blue eyes softened in response. He wanted to stay there a little bit...in the warm afterglow...wanted to bask in it but there would be plenty of opportunities to do that in the future, and he'd commandeered this enough as it was. 

“I love you,” he murmured. “Thank you.”

Pulling back, the older man winced somewhat in response to physical separation but didn't fixate on it. Instead, he settled with finding a better purchase on the edge of the couch and running his fingers through his hair in a purely habitual gesture as he cupped his partner's cheek with his free hand...tracing the contour of his jaw with a slightly unsteady palm. He wanted to say something else, something tangible, but eloquence had never been his forte. Instead, he focused on communicating his affection through his presence...through merely existing as he was in the same space. And it was hard to look back and consider how differently this could have ended up...how sharply their lives could contrast to where they were not. It was a hell of a subject to consider on the backend of an orgasm, but he couldn’t help it. Swallowing, Vincent closed his eyes and opened his mouth. When he spoke, his voice was somewhat hoarse.

“I’m...so,  _ so  _ happy to be here, with you.” 

Something shivered in those irises as though Angeal was sharing his thoughts somehow, and if possible sapphire eyes softened even more. The younger man whispered gently  _ ‘Come here’ _ before kind careful hands drew him inexorably into a tight embrace. The former General held onto him as though they hadn’t just reached that pinnacle of pleasure together, held onto him like a lover who’d just been reunited with the subject of his affections after a long time apart. Those fingers splayed above his sacral triangle, holding him in place as the map of their bodies fit against each other like two pieces of a puzzle, and it was almost enough for him to forget about that which had transpired in his head.  _ Almost _ .

“I love you,” was uttered resolutely, and a kiss was bestowed on his shoulder before the sentiment was repeated again. “I love you, Vincent.” Drawing back, warm palms cradled his face as Angeal's mouth brushed his forehead. “Before you, I didn’t know how much it meant…” A gentle smile that crinkled the corners of his partner’s eyes. “ _ This… _ You’re the only one I want to touch, the only one I want to place the world at his feet if you so willed it…because this, none of this would have been possible without you…”

And yet again, Vincent found himself smiling...leaning into the touch at his cheek before he could really consider the action. Because despite his participation in all of this, despite how much had led them to where they were, there was the prominent fact that Angeal was still uniquely, singularly individual without him. He’d have liked to have been selfless enough to say that the world could do with more people like him, but he was selfish...and he was quite happy to say that he was deliriously content to have him all to himself. If he thought about it too long, the insecurities in terms of  _ why  _ the younger man would choose him became far too virulent, and his self-perspective was convoluted and one-sided...but it still made him shiver in a sweet, aching sort of way. So when he opened his mouth to reply it was with the knowledge that maybe they would never know their own value in terms of themselves, but they could always count on the other to bring clarity to it.

“Thank you,” Vincent murmured. “For showing me that there’s more to life than regretting that which has come and gone...for showing me continuation when I couldn’t see the way forward...for choosing me to share yourself with.” 

Exhaling a bit unsteadily, he closed his eyes. 

“Thank you for seeing me,  _ all of me,  _ when I couldn’t see past the darkness in myself.”


	24. Chapter Twenty One

Strange.

Sephiroth couldn’t think of any word to describe returning to HQ without Angeal save for  _ ‘strange.’  _ In his memories, the dark-haired First had always been there...always present...always sociable and friendly. Embedded in his honor with a forward thinking attitude...the only things on his mind the safety of his comrades, the success of the company, as it was then and as it was before. It was strange to enter Administration with the knowledge that the older man wouldn’t be there talking with Lazard or arguing with a member of the Board. Stranger still to walk the barracks and understand that the forlorn faces on those of the men were there because of someone remembered and not someone simply away. He’d haunted such places...late at night...when Genesis was taking his turn with Vincent. When the lights were out and the staff had gone home he visited the VR room and pulled up the simulation of the Sister Ray just so he could sit on that familiar ledge and relive those memories. 

He regretted not talking to him.

At first, the silver-haired man hadn’t been able to place the feeling, mostly because it gnawed at him in a way he was unfamiliar with. He’d been standing in their- _ Vincent’s- _ living room looking at an old easy chair and wishing for something. It only struck him then that that was where Angeal used to sit, that it was where he would take phone calls and jot down notes. His memories of his time in HQ with just the two of them seemed far away...but they were brought into a sharp, painful clarity in that moment. Because Angeal had always made time for him...had always put away whatever he was working on when he came in so he could give him his undivided attention. Even if they didn’t talk...there was a sense of safety and watchfulness. It wasn’t in a physical sense, or in a romantic sense….merely in an emotional sense. Genesis’ childhood friend had been the definition of a friend...to many people...so many people. It staggered him a little bit when he really thought about it. 

The parade was horrid.

In terms of pomp and circumstance, it was everything anyone would expect of a procession given in memory of someone great. The populace flooded the streets and grieved the man they knew; the hero, the reformist...the man of the people. Flowers were strewn across the asphalt...black and white...ribbons and streamers and a speech to end all speeches from Reeve. A nod to his duty, his dedication and his utter determination to create a better life for everyone on Gaia. Elucidations in terms of his service, his sacrifice, his honor. The things that Angeal Hewley was known to possess and give freely because he would give anything to see someone else happy...to see them brought from destitution and into a more positive outlook. 

Standing on a float in the middle of it all, Sephiroth had wanted to kill each and every sobbing soul before him. 

Because they didn’t  _ know  _ Angeal. Not really. They knew the definition of him...what the media presented and what he had given to them. They didn’t know that Angeal had suffered horribly all the while, that he’d sat in on meetings in terrible pain just to see it all through. And maybe his life might have been prolonged if he hadn’t pushed himself so hard...if he hadn’t put so many people first. They didn’t know the Angeal that had loved Vincent so dearly, that had given him that love unconditionally without question. They didn’t know the Angeal Genesis had known...the friend, the first friend the redhead had ever had. The individual who would trek miles to pick up his childhood companion just so they could spend time with each other. The man who had bled out on the battlefield countless times in the name of something he believed was good but was truly heinous. The man who had grieved for his wayward comrades, who had worked tirelessly to save their lives and then even more tirelessly to reconnect with them. 

Vincent attended...and he didn’t attend.

His father was there...physically, but mentally it was clear he was in some sort of infernal purgatory. Situated on Sephiroth’s left, tall and silent and taciturn but those crimson eyes portrayed  _ agony  _ beyond his capabilities to comprehend. And he was sure the worried glances he kept exchanging with Genesis didn’t aid in anything but he couldn’t help it. Not when the older man looked like he was drowning and there was nothing he could do to save himself. And he wanted to reach out, to reassure, to  _ say something  _ but what could you say to someone who was facing the death of the person he’d loved on such a large scale? What did you say to make anyone feel better in such terrible circumstances? Anything he came up with seemed to pale in comparison. Because he could talk all he wanted and Angeal wasn’t going to come back...he was never coming back. 

He probably wasn’t processing his grief like he should have.

It took a while to acknowledge that he was grieving...because he’d been taught that grief was a weakness and he shoved it down whenever he could because it was a hindrance. There was also the fact that he had to look after Vincent and make sure that Genesis wasn’t going to do anything catastrophic on top of it. It wasn’t easy. Vincent was-officially-suicidal for the greater part of a month. He’d caught him in the act three times and each time he did he despaired a little bit for his recovery. It was one thing to jump off the landing pad...but it was quite another to figure out how to hang yourself on a doorknob. The methodology wasn’t quick or easy...it required a great amount of pain and a great amount of self-control to die that way. And he might have gotten angry once or twice, might have shouted until he felt like he was going to lose consciousness from rage and sheer terror which probably didn’t help things any. They monitored him in shifts but there were still times when neither of them could be there and that was usually when the worst happened.

Genesis was alright as long as they were having sex. 

This he was fine with, because sex was just as good a distraction for him as it was for his partner. And considering the emotional volatility behind it, he wasn’t complaining, because rough sex was something he apparently liked. Whether submissive or dominant, he staggered away from their encounters deliriously satisfied and slept so well during his off shifts at night he felt guilty about it. If they didn’t have encounters of the horizontal-or vertical, depending-nature more than two days in a row his redheaded companion started getting irritable and shifty-eyed and that was usually his cue to drop whatever he was doing and take his clothes off because he didn’t want to think about what would happen otherwise. If a Board member saw fit to stare at his hickeys for more than a minute or two he usually found a way to fire them because there were more important issues to focus on than how often he was getting laid. And it was often; but it wasn’t anyone’s business either. 

Otherwise...life went on as normally as it possibly could.

He did a ridiculous amount of paperwork, which wasn’t abnormal but he’d been doing paperwork what felt like the entirety of his existence and he was occasionally accosted with the desire to burn it. The one time he and Genesis decided to have sex in his office they managed to do it on top of an official report. When Lazard called to ask about the stain he told him it was a milkshake. There were several minutes of disbelieving silence on the other end before the Director hung up and they didn’t make eye contact for about a week. He also made a lot of trips to Administration because evidently Administration was so clueless and nonfunctional without Angeal that it was like trying to herd a gaggle of drunken chickens. There were times when he wanted to-literally-pull his hair out. He refrained because it would have made him look crazy and he didn’t particularly want to look crazy. It was hard to, however, when an ancient, cantankerous Board member was trying to siphon funds from a good cause to line his pockets and the pockets of all the other ancient and cantankerous members of the Board. 

If he were perfectly honest with himself, it felt stagnant.

He was used to being a Soldier but it wasn’t the only thing he wanted out of his life. He and Genesis had talked about moving away before, and while he hadn’t really considered it seriously then, he was now. Doing what he needed to do in terms of Shinra was important, but he’d been in service for a long time...and he was getting tired of being at the head of everything. In terms of a legacy, his was fraught with bloodshed but there were setbacks to all areas of life and he’d learnt to deal with what he’d been given. Changing the past wasn’t an option...even if he had a thousand Time materias he didn’t think he’d use them. It was strange to acknowledge that the events of the past were so uniquely tied to who he was now. In retrospect, he couldn’t say that he was all that different...only that his outlook was somewhat wider...maybe more temperate but not really. He wasn’t the sort of person that believed in personal progress...change was too hard a thing to conscience on a large scale...so he took what he had and hoped for the best. He was intimately aware that this wasn’t a very personable viewpoint either but there was nothing he could do about it without changing the foundations of who he was.

Raising a hand to knock, Sephiroth shifted his weight from one foot to the other before glancing at his watch. Lately, Vincent seemed to be better. ‘Better’ was a subjective term but he’d stopped trying to terminate himself and he supposed that was something positive. They still took their shifts at night, but since the crimson-eyed gunslinger had tentatively started investing himself in his work again, they had less of a reason to worry during the day. When no one answered the door, the silver-haired man frowned and checked his chronometer again. By his reckoning, his father should have been home from work for at least an hour. It was 1830 and while they all tended to stay late in terms of career-related endeavors, it was far too late for the ex-Turk to not be home. Taking his keycard out, the silver-haired man fit it into the slot and waited for the sound of the latch before turning the knob and stepping inside. It was dark, and Chaos greeted him with a somewhat grudging meow before hopping onto an armchair and fixing him with a judgemental look. Genesis wasn’t back either, which wasn’t so unusual considering how long it took to clean up the dojo...but he was rarely the first one to return. 

He’d set his satchel filled with paperwork down and turned to close the door when the sound of footsteps gave him pause. A few seconds later and Vincent came into view...looking tired and a little pensive but otherwise alright. Entering, his sire blinked in greeting before bypassing him to scoop up Chaos who promptly was delighted instead of irately silent. Looking at his back, Sephiroth couldn’t help but wonder over the verity that a man could become so attached to a fluffy purring thing. Deciding that such ponderings were better left to those that could comprehend them, he shrugged off the outer coat of his uniform and left his boots by the entryway. Fingering his turtleneck, the younger man began a slow trek to the kitchen in search of something to eat. 

“Administration’s putting up quite a fuss these days.” was the wry comment as he pulled a granola bar from a cabinet.

Pausing, Sephiroth took a moment to peel off the wrapper and throw it in the trash before coming back to the living room. Vincent had put down Chaos and was looking distractedly at a stack of newspapers on the coffee table. 

“Section 18 is up for review,” The silver-haired man mumbled through a bite of granola as he sat down on the couch. “If they can alter the prerogative they get a percentage of the tax.” A snort. “Like that’s going to happen.” He continued darkly. 

“Did you talk to the Treasurer?” was the idle response.

“Yes.” The General replied irritably. “She wasn’t much help.” 

Vincent nodded slowly, his expression indicating that he wasn’t surprised. Silence stretched between them before his father spoke again.

“I met with Reeve today.” When Sephiroth gave him a look that plainly told him to  _ ‘get on with it’  _ he continued. “He wants me to be vice-president.” 

_ This  _ gave him pause. Putting his snack down, the green-eyed First contemplated the statement without replying. Objectively, it made sense. Reeve needed help, a lot of help and he didn’t need to keep rushing hysterically to him or Lazard in order to get it. Subjectively, it also made sense because Vincent was very organized and very logical. He could put things into order that others couldn’t, and he’d be able to travel to talk to dignitaries that might have questions. His Turk background meant that he was already trained in diplomacy and politics and he’d served long enough that he was fully qualified. It was-really-a brilliant choice...and he couldn’t think of anyone who could do better. Before him, the individual in question was quiet and contemplative, and he understood. It would be a lifetime commitment...that much was obvious. HQ members above a certain status were indebted indefinitely, and there was no public vote available to get them out once they were in. He would need to run through the standard selection procedures but as far as Sephiroth knew he didn’t have anyone to compete with because no one else was qualified. 

“How...do you feel about that?” he asked uncertainly. 

Crimson eyes flashed in his direction before looking away, long fingers clenching into a loose fist before letting go.

“I…” Vincent swallowed and took a deep breath. “I don’t know. Conflicted I suppose. I don’t like the idea of being in a position of power...I know how much responsibility comes with it.”

“Is responsibility really the issue?” the younger man asked flatly.

The look leveled at him next said he was far too clever for his own good and he tried not to be smug about it.

“No,” was the somewhat amused response. “No...I suppose not. I just don’t want to be tied down and then live to regret it.” 

Tilting his head, Sephiroth narrowed his eyes.

“Do you have a time limit to consider it?”

“Two weeks,” was the bitter response. “Not a considerable amount...but with the position in mind I suppose it’s fair. He told me that Ang-” a cut off pause. “-That Angeal left some documents pertaining to it somewhere, I’ll need to look for them.” 

“So Angeal anticipated the position for you.”

“Yes.” 

Vincent’s response was something between a sigh and a vocalization...dripping with indecision and reticence. The older man dithered for a moment before heading to the bedroom with an expression of sincere resignation. Refocusing on his meal, Sephiroth couldn’t help but be exasperated by the whole situation. It wasn’t like he was going to be forced to stay in HQ. More than likely he’d be given a considerable amount of freedom to do what he needed to, and it wasn’t like his work hours weren’t ridiculous already. Most of what he was doing was ambiguous; sometimes he worked for Intelligence, sometimes he ferried papers and sometimes he sat in on meetings and made irritable comments until Lazard told him to leave. Vincent was useful but he was too flighty in terms of what he wanted to do and this could help solidify his decision without tying him to a desk job. Chaos hopped onto his lap and fixed him with another death glare before curling up and going to sleep. Sephiroth debated for five minutes regarding the dangers of pushing him onto the floor before deciding it probably wasn’t worth it. Settling in, he finished the granola bar before closing his eyes and tipping his head back.

There was a crash from the bedroom.

It wasn’t so much of a crash as a muffled thump and a strangled, disbelieving expression of pain. The silver-haired soldier was on his feet so fast Chaos was still in midair when he started moving. He ignored the indignant yowl from behind him in favor of sprinting to the hallway. It was always like this-he reflected hysterically-this calm before the storm...this false sense of peace and when would they have  _ peace?!  _ Flinging the door to the bedroom open, he was greeted with the sight of Vincent kneeling amid a bunch of paperwork...mostly blank and labeled with nothing to note. Sephiroth’s first instinct was to check for injury but there wasn’t any. The top drawer to a dresser was on the floor but that was it...nothing else. His father appeared to be clutching one hand with the other...fingers clenched around something inside. The professional in him took over...insisting that he prise those pale digits apart to check for any sort of self harm. It surprised him a little bit when he was offered little to no resistance, but his confusion was heightened when he was privy to seeing what was inside.

Nestled in Vincent’s palm was a simple silver ring.

It was-admittedly-pure silver. The green-eyed First could tell simply from looking at it. The surface of it was so smooth he could see his reflection in it and he imagined it would be rather weighty in his hand. He was no jeweler, but even he could see that it was fine craftsmanship. The cost would have been exorbitant. Engraved on the inside were simplistic letters;  _ ‘V’  _ and  _ ‘A’ _ with an  _ ‘&’  _ betwixt. 

“I found it in his drawer,” was the gasped statement. “In his drawer under the files-!”

And Sephiroth understood. 

It was a horrible thing to discover after the person in question's death. And the fact that Angeal had intended to marry Vincent didn't make it better. Instead it seemed to deepen the sense of horrible loss...the feeling of bereavement. Looking at the engagement ring...the younger man almost wanted to destroy it for existing. Because it was a testament to what his father had missed...what he would be missing. Swallowing, helpless and a little heartbroken for the individual kneeling in front of him, Sephiroth reached forward to put a hand on his father's shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” he said sincerely. 

Vincent burst into tears.

It startled him at first because he hadn't heard him cry like that before. It wasn't silent and wrenching...nor was it ugly and deep. It was something soft and so lonely it was almost nauseating. No one-in his opinion-should be forced to feel such loneliness. And he was possibly the worst person for this sort of situation...because he didn't know what to do, didn't know what to say. He could only sit there and watch as his father progressively fell apart more and more. There was the sound of the front door opening but neither of them acknowledged it. Instead they sat there, his sire quietly weeping and he himself mute and stupid. 

There was a rustle of clothes, paper, and plastic coming from outside the room, heralding his lover’s arrival even though a few seconds later a melodious voice muttered a jovial ‘ _ Hey, _ Chaos’. At this, Sephiroth didn’t know if he should feel worse or better; because while Genesis might probably know how to handle a situation like this better than he did, it was going to be at the expense of his seemingly good mood. 

The other occupant of the apartment’s footsteps kept going until they finally drew nearer toward the room; there was a rather pleased meowl before the hinges of the door creaked at the same time that the redhead knocked on the wood. The sharp sound made his father jump somewhat; and maybe it was in an attempt to compose himself or he had been simply too out of it to notice whatever that had transpired for the past few minutes because he jolted straight only to have the ring roll out of his palm and onto the floor.

While Vincent was about to scramble to retrieve the small silver circlet, it was his redheaded partner who stepped inside the room, bent down and picked it up; Genesis came to sit down next to his father without checking the tiny band of metal in his hands before handing it over. Azure eyes flickered between the two of them, worry swirling in them as they returned to his before that cerise mouth parted in a neutral query. “What’s going on?”

It didn’t seem like his father was capable of responding, but Sephiroth wasn’t entirely sure if he was eloquent enough to sufficiently emphasize the gravity of the situation to say anything himself. He mouthed uselessly for a moment, to which he received a thoroughly unimpressed expression in return. Trying to quell his mounting frustration with himself, the younger man glanced helplessly at Vincent who-despite his grief-seemed to catch on rather quickly. It was with slight surprise-and a little reticence-that he found the ring pressed into his palm. Blue eyes zeroed in on it, his partner silent but patiently observing. And he knew that the reality of it was a terribly ugly thing when they were all trying to move forward, but he couldn’t avoid it at this point either. Rotating slightly, hefting the aforementioned jewelry in his palm before proffering it to his lover...he opened his mouth. 

“It was in one of Angeal’s drawers,” he said dully. “Look at the engraving.” 

Calloused fingertips brushed against his palm as Genesis picked up the ring, rotated it and froze right there and there. Azure eyes widened slowly, a corner of a cerise mouth quirking downwards as an agonized expression slowly unfolded on the older man’s face; cerulean irises were swirling with so many emotions as they made a slow trek from the silver engagement ring to stare at his sire. And as though his lover had forgotten how to breathe for the past several seconds, he inhaled sharply and placed the ring back inside Vincent’s palm in a manner that was somewhat hasty; as though it was burning his skin or the tiny object had suddenly become so heavy that he couldn’t support it anymore. 

Oddly enough, Sephiroth acknowledged that possibly the same realization-about what his father would be missing-was dawning on his partner, even as Genesis tentatively raised his hand to brush the end of onyx strands on the gunslinger’s back, before letting his palm settle. There was an odd quality to it, something that the youngest of their trio couldn’t really pinpoint. If he wanted to venture a guess it was that the hand that was slowly, hesitatingly rubbing circular patterns against his sire’s back was imitating a gesture from a memory. 

The redhead shifted closer to the eldest of them then, raising another hand toward him as his former comrade turned his gaze at him. It took a moment for the silver-haired General to realize what his lover was silently asking, and for some reason unbeknownst to even himself, it felt as though his limbs were made of lead. Finally in some sort of an odd, loose embrace, the three of them converged in a ring around the ring Angeal had intended to give to the currently crumbling dark-haired individual. It was, again, the former Commander’s hand that bunched up his outfit at the small of his back, in a hold not too tight and not too loose, and then, an auburn wreathed head tilted somewhat to lean on his shoulder only to stop halfway.

“I’m sorry, Vincent…” was the quiet reply, and while it appeared that Genesis had wanted to continue for a moment, the line of his jaw tensed, his lips pressed into a tight line.

It was an echo of his sentiment, thought perhaps far more weighty. He realized, with a jolt of sincere regret, that there was nothing either of them could really say that would take away from the pain of the moment. Because Angeal was still gone and there was nothing either of them could do to assuage the realization of what could have been. Briefly, he wondered if any of it was worth it if this was the result. Almost immediately, he felt guilty for thinking something so crass. He still had Genesis, and while his lover’s childhood friend was gone there was no immediate reasoning for his sudden morbidity. Maybe this was what life always was...loss after loss...the fear of loss...acknowledging it and moving on. He didn’t know what was worse; knowing that he was going to be privileged with not experiencing such bereavement or the fact that he felt guilty about it. He shoved the sensation of accountability down because it wasn’t going to do anyone any good it wasn’t going to gift them with any kind of clarity. 

Sephiroth had never considered marriage.

Glancing at Genesis, he came to the firm conclusion that he never would. Matrimony didn’t suit them...didn’t fit the definition of what they were. He was fairly sure that if he went out and bought a ring and got down on one knee his redheaded companion would throw it at him and tell him to get his head examined. All of that aside, it wasn’t something that he particularly wanted either. The press would eat them alive and the concept of a ceremony was so nauseating it made him want to throw up. He couldn’t see them exchanging vows that held any vein of total sincerity in terms of ‘cherishing’ or ‘valuing.’ Not because they didn’t cherish or value each other but because writing it out and setting it in stone seemed counterproductive. They fought too much to commit to each other on a long-term scale, and the idea of commitment on a legalistic scale was almost laughable. They’d tried too hard to get away from being ruled over to bind themselves in legislative contract as a declaration of love. Clearing his throat, the General shifted somewhat before speaking.

“Angeal loved you,” When no response was forthcoming, he continued. “It likely doesn’t help matters, but this...this...this is a representation of how  _ much  _ he loved you.” 

Beside him, Genesis gave him a look that the redhead usually did when he approved what he’d said or done. Not that Sephiroth was looking for approval from his partner, but it was good to know that he was on the right track, though it was never this easy. But then again, that wasn’t really the point.

The silence in the room was oppressive in its melancholic quality, especially since everything they’d said and done seemed to be having no effect whatsoever. The state his father was in at the moment was pretty much reminiscent of how the dark-haired ex-Turk had been during the parade. With the anguish swirling in ruby irises as the only testimony to the endless void of sorrow that was probably gnawing at his sire’s insides, Vincent had had to maintain an appearance there; however, here, there was really no need for him to hide his falling apart inside his own apartment and around them...because their pain, their sadness was a shared thing.

Angeal had been the shared facet of their lives for a long time, had strived so hard to bring them all together; and once they finally had, even for what seemed to be mere moments, the dark-haired First was gone, leaving  _ this _ behind.

Them.

Everything.

It was Genesis’ voice that brought him out of his reverie. “I don’t want to make this about me, and I know nothing we say is going to take your pain away-it’s not the point-and it’s probably not going to assuage you either.” A pause, and his partner’s hand stopped rubbing the back of the eldest of them; it rose for ivory fingers to hold onto his sire’s shoulder. “But-and while our relationship is different from yours and I’m not trying to compare-the couple of times I thought I lost Sephiroth, there were things like this, these what-could-have-beens that made me wish for death every single day, that made me crumble every time I thought I had put myself together somewhat.” The hand holding onto Sephiroth’s attire tightened its hold. “It might probably feel too painful to be alive right now…and I don’t want to assume, I’m just talking from my own experience...that you might probably feel like there’s nothing left for you to rise from the ground for, nothing worth keep going for, but a wise woman once told me to wake from death and turn to life.” There was a small smile on his partner’s lips, a somewhat faraway nostalgic look in cerulean irises before the former Commander glanced at the eldest of them. “You’re strong, Vincent, even though I’m sure it seems like the most effortless thing to say. But you and Angeal helped create something from the terrible regime Shinra was...and while Sephiroth and I are not Angeal, let us help you create something from this.”

Vincent didn’t respond, though it was clear that he was listening. And while he never verbalized his appreciation, he did reach out and put a hand on Genesis’ shoulder. Which, really, elucidated more than words could ever say in any case. 

* * *

Sephiroth didn’t visit the dojo often.

This wasn’t so much about his avoidance of Genesis as it was his avoidance of the people he taught. The majority of them were on the young side, some of them trainees interested in different forms of combat and some of them were civilians who wanted to learn self-defense. He volunteered rarely. Mostly because when he did the class subjects were too busy gawking at him to really learn anything useful and he didn’t have the patience or care for youth. Their opinions were mostly frivolous in any case...whispers of the man he used to be or wrought of fear in terms of what he’d become. He had no patience for the glorification of times past or the nightmares that had come afterwards. As it was, he was perfectly content to hover in the background until most of the crowd had trickled away and the two of them were alone.

The dojo in of itself was simplistic; white reed flooring was a sharp contrast to the shōji walls….placed in intervals throughout the building. Most of the lighting was artificial due to the dojo’s location in the slums but it was still a considerably large space. He knew for a fact that there was a break room in the back, along with a progression chamber of sorts for those who took the process to a considerably more serious degree. While the redhead was still forming the idea for the facility, Angeal had come to him and Vincent with the idea of pitching in and creating an elaborate space but the idealisms of it were ultimately rejected. Sephiroth didn’t think much of it, being too enmired in his own work to really focus on the specifics. Regardless, the dojo was successful and had garnered a good reputation in the short time it had been open. Vincent had been particularly participant during its early days but his involvement had waned with Angeal’s death. The silver-haired soldier had the sneaking suspicion it was because there were too many memories of his father’s lover lurking in the walls. 

Hefting the bags of takeout he was carrying, the General crossed over the threshold and was relieved to see that all of the day's trainees had packed up and left far before he’d arrived. By his knowledge, Vincent was in a meeting with Reeve negotiating the terms of his ascension to vice president. It had taken the older man several days to make up his mind in tangence with the grief over finding the engagement ring, but in the end he’d decided to go for it. Too cautious to really question his reasoning in terms of it, Sephiroth kept quiet. He knew without asking that his father's decision had a considerable amount to do with his deceased partner's wishes, but he didn't pry. 

_ His  _ partner was standing in the middle of the dojo, blue eyes sweeping the enclosed space with a practiced eye; presumably making sure that everything that needed to be done was finished before closing up. Upon Sephiroth's entry, the redhead tilted his head to acknowledge his presence but otherwise didn't speak, preferring to continue with his task. Closing the space between them, the silver-haired first set his culinary cargo down before stepping forward to let his hands rest on Genesis’ hips from behind. Lowering his head to prop his chin on his lover's shoulder, he opened his mouth. 

“I thought we could eat here,” he said quietly. When Genesis ‘hmm’ed in response he continued. “Busy day?” 

Since the parade, the knowledge of the scarlet-haired ex-soldier’s return had gone public. They had been occupied with watching over Vincent for the most part, and therefore holed up in HQ most of the time, so the number of paparazzi-who might have been awaiting his or the older man’s statements in regards to the circumstances of his return-had dwindled considerably. That said, there had been a handful of persistent ones, but Genesis had somehow ‘taken care’ of them enough to seemingly keep them quiet and content. Even though his lover’s methods were questionable most of the time, Sephiroth had never really asked about it, inundated with responsibilities as he’d been. But apparently, as effective as those ‘methods’ might have been, they hadn’t been enough for the redhead not to be tailed by those reporters and soon the whereabouts of his dojo had been discovered; hence more and more applicants and trainees had started showing up which they had to either reject because of the lack of space or put in a waiting list. Earlier, Angeal had proposed the concept of opening another dojo for those living on the upper plate and for the former Commander to split his time evenly between the two, but then again the worst had come to pass and thus, here they were.

Seemingly finished with his inspection, the former Commander turned his head, his fiery ponytail sliding over his other shoulder as he pecked him on the cheek before detangling himself from Sephiroth’s embrace. Dressed in a greyish-dark blue uwagi and matching hakama, the redhead faced him as he spoke, still near enough for the General to return his gesture with a chaste kiss on his lover’s lips as those calloused hands mirrored his on the younger man’s hips. “Everyday is a busy day.” There was no trace of weariness on his partner’s pale face; instead, there was the shy quirk of those sanguine lips in a somewhat mischievous smile that was shivering in cerulean eyes. “How was yours?” Before the silver-haired man could answer, however, the older man added hastily, nodding briefly toward the food. “Thank you, and also for coming over to visit.”

“Busy,” Sephiroth replied dryly, earning himself a raised brow. “I think Reeve secretly desires for me to transform into a paperweight. The only way I'm going to keep track of the bookwork he hands over to me is if I lie down on top of it.” He paused and contemplated his previous comment. “Though, now that I think about it, I think Lazard would have me committed if I did that.” 

This was probably true. Half the time, however, the younger man was somewhat convinced that the Director of Soldier and the President needed to be committed simply due to levels of stress they exuded on a day to day basis. Reeve was better at hiding it but there were times when he was entirely convinced Lazard was going to crack and retire to take up something inane like knitting. He was fairly sure he would never forgive his employer if he was forced to wear something like mittens but the concept wouldn’t leave his brain whenever he saw the bespectacled director take another load of paperwork from an assistant. A part of him was fairly sure that Deusericus wouldn’t leave HQ even upon retirement and he was fully prepared to write a formal complaint to HR if he started getting tea cozies for holiday gifts. Green eyes zeroed in on his lover’s garb, and Sephiroth took the opportunity to pull his lover a little closer.

“Have I ever mentioned,” he murmured. “That whenever I see you wearing that I just want to get you out of it?” Fingering the overlapped edges of the hakama, he smirked suggestively. “You look good.” 

The beaming smile he received was nothing short of smug, and maybe even on the right side of wickedly salacious; the corners of those blue eyes crinkled softly and yet those azure gems couldn’t be anymore keener. Genesis seemed to bask in the compliment he’d offered for an infinitesimal moment longer, his fingers tightening against his leather-clad hips before those very irresistible lips parted. “I was having other plans, namely inviting you for a spar…” A pause in which his lover blinked slowly, licked a lower vermillion before continuing. “And even though the food would go cold, I think that can be managed,” Raising both hands to loop them around his neck, the former Commander challenged quietly. “And  _ more. If  _ you win. So… what do you think?”

The chuckle that made its way out of the General’s throat was tinged with a kind of dark ardor. Letting the hand on his lover’s garb lift to his hair, the younger man barely resisted tugging all that scarlet hair out of its tail before he reverted his focus and cupped the redhead’s cheek. Thumbing across the slope of an alabaster jaw, he leaned in slowly...slowly….until their lips were but inches apart. When Genesis’ mouth parted slightly in invitation he retreated and let a smile curve over his lips at the sight of the blue-eyed ex-soldier’s mild but playful indignation. Tsk’ing quietly, he let his fore and middle finger trace just below the curve of his lover’s cupid’s bow...over heated cerise flesh as breath ghosted over slender digits. Those copper lashes dipped slightly and he lowered his head to the shell of his companions ear.

“I think,” he purred. “We should establish what weapons we’ll be using.” Pressing himself more fully against the older man, he let the jut of his arousal dig into the hollow of a hip bone. “Though I think it’s fair to say that we both have readily available swords...hmm?”

There was the flutter of silver strands behind his ear, the ghost of a breath and the promise of those same hot cerise lips which made the small hairs at the nape of his neck stand on end...but then, Genesis pulled back, smirking as he turned around to walk toward one of the multi-tiered sword holders. While it seemed that his partner had decided to let his innuendo slip, the former Commander spoke over his shoulder. “More than one pair… Though you’re making this really easy. I wonder what my prize is going to be.” From where Sephiroth was standing, those ivory fingers traced along the length of a bokken ōdachi, picking it up after another wooden daitō. Facing him yet again, the nodachi was proffered, hilt first, but even as the General grabbed the weapon, the older man didn’t let go. “Quite keen on seeing me in tangas, are we?” An elegant eyebrow was raised. “Does this work?” When it took a moment for the silver-haired First to notice what his lover was talking about, those fervent cerulean flames flicked to the bokken both of them were holding on before returning to his visage.

Taking the proffered weapon whilst trying to disguise his interest in terms of his partner’s undergarments, the younger man hefted it experimentally. It was lighter, certainly. There would be some risk of him shattering it purely by accident if he drove forward too hard. He couldn’t recall a time when he’d used a wooden practice sword but he supposed there was a first time for everything. The make was similar enough to Masamune that he wouldn’t be making a complete and total idiot of himself within the first few minutes and he liked a challenge anyway. Making a few passes at nothing at all, he took in the aerodynamics of the blade before dropping into a habitual guard position. It was-he reflected dryly-a bit like fighting with a feather; though feathers were much less likely to give him splinters. 

While he was going through this long-winded thought process, Genesis had retreated somewhat to stand in the center of the dojo again. Amused blue eyes were watching him ponder over the situation with a patient sort of humor. With a small modicum of respect, the younger man acknowledged that in this situation his lover probably had more self control in terms of tempering blows. He wouldn’t-after all-be able to keep his dojo open if he kept exploding his props. Turning from the tiered katanagake, Sephiroth tilted his head and analyzed his opponent’s position. The former Commander’s stance was deceptively casual but he knew better at this point than to assume that the redhead wasn’t on his guard. Further observance confirmed this; while the older man’s posture was deceptively calm, he was holding the daitō in an abbreviated gedan no kamae. Most Soldiers were taught Ochs, Pflug, Alber, and Vom Tag positioning. Few continued on to study Wutain swordplay but he was versed enough that he was comfortable utilizing it in the face of an opponent who might know it better.

“It works,” he replied casually, crossing the space between them and settling into a wakigamae. “I suppose this time we don’t have to use saya-ate as an excuse.” The silver-haired man cocked his head. “That’s a good thing.”

Genesis didn’t comment, cerulean irises observing his stance just as he’d been only moments ago while his fingers tightened their hold on the handle of his bokken, still keeping his gedan-no-kamae. Apparently engaged in a silent battle of wills on who would strike first, Sephiroth reflected that since their wooden practice swords had no tsuba, it’d be another challenge to use their choice of weapons as a shield; he had to rely on the heft of his blade and his techniques to block. The distracting swish of his partner’s umanori as the older man started crossing his feet back made him focus forward again, where the former Commander was circling him slowly while switching from his stance to seigan-no-kamae.

While the General kept his cool, he could see the impatience giving a subtle edge to his opponent’s movements; and while it probably would have remained hidden from anyone who wasn’t as familiar with his partner’s fighting style as he was, Sephiroth knew that the redhead would soon take the offensive and attack. Which he did; the redhead lunged forward, even though it was more of a playful jab than a full-on tsuki. Cerise lips curved into a smile when the silver-haired soldier didn’t rise up to his bait, but it was ephemeral because those pale features quickly rearranged themselves into a determined expression. That was exactly when their spar started, and like always, it was Genesis who took the initiative.

Pivoting the daitō in his grip, the former Commander executed a migi-kesa-giri, the echo of his kiai broken by the loud, dull rap of their bokken as the younger man blocked the strike with a gyaku-kesa. Twisting his ōdachi around to mirror Genesis’ move from earlier, the green-eyed individual attempted to throw his companion’s weapon aside and leave him wide open for his own follow through. The General didn’t really expect his opponent to be so easy to manipulate; while the redhead wasn’t really mako-enhanced anymore, his agility was still far superior compared to the occasional spars Sephiroth had with First and Second Classes in the training room. There was also the matter of strength; which, quite obviously, both of them were withholding their true potential so as not to end up in an unintended shower of splinters. 

The scarlet-haired ex-soldier twirled around him, swinging his practice sword in a tsuihei aimed at his leather-clad back which he blocked with yet another single-handed, upward-diagonal strike.

The silence of the dojo didn’t have the chance to settle for more than a second or two since the staccato  _ rap, rap  _ of their bokken kept breaking it; and while Sephiroth was mostly silent except for the faint creak of his leathers, his partner’s was a mellifluous rustle of his garbs with raucous intermittent kiais as they kept meeting each other in their waltz of limbs and wooden practice swords. Briefly, the General acknowledged how it was reminiscent of when he’d likened their grapple in the Forgotten Capital to some form of dance. They traversed the expanse of the tatami, sometimes with Genesis backing away in the face of his assaults, and sometimes, the silver-haired First decided to make it more of a challenge for himself to move with the blows they exchanged while he could simply stand his ground and still manage just fine. 

It wasn’t really a matter of who emerged triumphant from their spar and who lost, because like he had said earlier, there wasn’t a saya-ate behind this, and while his partner had joked about prizes, the friendliness of their exchange was unmissable. His lover wasn’t going easy on him-well as much as their daitōs allowed-and neither was Sephiroth, but there was no malevolent viciousness on either of their behalfs based on an unspoken, mutual agreement. 

As though some deity with a twisted sense of humor had been listening to his words, suddenly there was a shift in the older man’s stance, his attacks becoming more assertive and forceful. The General was contemplating whether he should chalk it up as Genesis becoming impatient with their spar or something else when it was his lover who provided him with an explanation.

“I met myself several days ago.” was a neutral statement. “In some alley in the outer parts of the slums.” Another swipe at his shoulder which slid down the length of his ōdachi before the redhead crossed backwards, hakama swishing quickly as he put more distance between the two of them, his fiery ponytail sliding over and in front of his shoulder. “I was taking a detour to go check up on my apartment, making sure no one was following.” While the younger man was trying to process the information and resume their spar, he couldn’t help but observe the somewhat dark look behind azure irises. “Degrading.” A pause. “I asked about others, but he didn’t know. Shinra never took responsibility for this.” A corner of Genesis’ lips twitched, but whether it was a grimace or a sneer, it wasn’t given the chance to fully take form. “I had to put him out of his misery.” There was an odd quality to his lover’s voice, but Sephiroth didn’t have the chance to distinguish what it was; there was also no way he gauge the expression on his partner’s features because promptly the ex-First put more distance between them again, threw his bokken to the side as he snarled. “This is ridiculous.” And then, he rushed forward with bare hands.

He didn’t really know what to say to that. 

Honestly he didn’t know what to do with any of it. Because he wasn’t exactly a tactician in terms of emotional comfort, and this was a spar. Comforting someone in the middle of a spar was a ludicrous idea because it was like night and day trying to come to some cohesive agreement about their levels of dark and light. And he could go off on a tangent about the balance of light and dark and yin and yang it all but it wasn’t going to do any good. Sidestepping to avoid a  _ chigi,  _ he dryly reflected that this was far more complicated than he’d ever wanted it to be. Waiting a moment to let his hair settle, he settled with abbreviated  _ dwit chagi  _ before relinquishing his weapon, and continuing his vein of thought. Hollander was an idiot who had utilized Shinra. This wasn’t technically the current Shirna’s offense but arguing that was fruitless. Putting his verbal energy into it wasn’t going to get them anywhere. Catching a  _ bandae dollyeo,  _ he used the momentum behind it to draw his opponent forward, pivoted left and relinquished it to perform a  _ palgup,  _ which was also blocked. 

Overtly, he acknowledged that the sword fighting methodology was not one he would have personally chosen. 

Switching to _ Lausatök _ , he utilized proximity while attempting to remain engaged and interested. Wutain martial arts emphasized the value of distance, doing the exact opposite was a bit counterproductive but if he managed to get kicked in the head it would effectively end the fight and the question of whether or not this was a conversation he was interested in pursuing. A  _ draugasveifla _ , and Genesis was forced to jump back slightly, though not by much. He had-briefly-studied the older Northern methods of fighting. Most of the villages that had utilized it were protective of their methods but he managed to a pick up a few things in the field. He’d taken to studying it a bit more when Angeal had suggested he do something with himself when he’d thought Genesis was dead.  _ Skessutak _ when you were on the defense,  _ hálsbragð  _ if you were wanting to kill someone...which he wasn’t...but the terminology was somewhat interesting. Catching a  _ sonkal,  _ he pivoted and brought the palm with him... _ Hnykkurinn _ and he was able to carry it through...switch his left and right foot and let Genesis’ weight carry him past him. 

Any type of throw he might use was going to send both of them somewhere outside the dojo and there wasn’t enough space for him to really be objective. 

It really didn’t take him a split second to contemplate the nature of his next offensive but he had to jump forward because behind him, Genesis had dropped to the ground to perform a low sweep kick aimed for his ankles, and just as quickly, his opponent was up and coming at him with yet another  _ bandae dollyeo _ . Instead of catching it this time, Sephiroth dropped down and aimed for the leg that his partner was pivoting on with a  _ skyvespark _ which forced the redhead to use the momentum of his previous move to carry him in a butterfly kick which gave the older man the chance to evade his attack but also threw him off balance for a moment. It gave the General ample time to follow through with what he’d had in mind: another  _ draugasveifla  _ which the former Commander countered with a  _ sonbadak-naeryo _ .

Just as abruptly as the flat of the redhead’s palm slid over the leather of his boot, his lover quickly crossed backwards, a somewhat breathless smile playing on his lips even as he hooked a bare foot under his discarded bokken ōdachi. While Sephiroth had given chase, he was forced to dodge backwards because with a tachikaze, an arc of wood swung in a tsuihei where he’d meant to enter the older man’s guard. 

“I didn’t say that for you to mope.” Following through, Genesis came at him with alarming speed, his wooden practice sword cleaving the air as migi-kesa-giri and hidari-kesa-giri followed one after another. A strange look was on his partner’s features, which he only had the opportunity to observe only for a moment or two considering that he was continuously forced to dodge or block. Apart from the exhilaration and the adrenaline surging through both of their systems, the scarlet-haired ex-First was following his movements with-what looked like- _ admiration? Pride? _ While he might have been contemplating on those, the next question caught him off guard; his surprise might also have had something to do with how totally unrelated it was to their previous topic. “If Vincent decides to become VP, are you going to ask Lazard to reinstate you as General?” 

Or maybe not. Because while he might not have wanted to stay, his partner seemed to think that he was; and possibly, in a convoluted way-which was always the case with his redheaded companion-would make Genesis despise Shinra even more than he already did.

Technically, he didn’t know what he was position-wise at this point. 

Everyone tended to call him ‘General’ and while he was used to the title he didn’t necessarily want it. Resignedly going for his partner’s blade, he rolled to avoid a  _ naeryeo chagi  _ and grasped the hilt of the daitō...letting himself rise to a crouch before putting some distance between them. This he quickly ameliorated...with a direct half-turn followed by a series of  _ kiriages  _ ending in an abbreviated  _ makko _ that morphed into an _ uke nagashi _ when his partner threw his offensive position. Sephiroth had somewhat hoped that Angeal’s death would have ameliorated his partner’s view of Shinra, because it wasn’t Shinra as it had been anymore. The tyrants that had once ruled were dust in the wind or moldering in unnamed graves. The ghosts of the past slipped between covetous fingers and existed only in the memories of those who had come before. He would-he acknowledged-be leaving HQ more satisfied with his work than he ever was when he’d been in the field cutting adversaries to ribbons because now he could go with the knowledge that he’d aided in making it into something that he didn’t want to raze to ruins simply for existing. He wasn’t fond of it, didn’t particularly care about it, but at least he didn’t want to destroy it. 

Watching with a detached kind of contemplation as his partner leaned back to avoid a  _ yoko giri _ , he acknowledged his own conflict with himself. Not in the sense of leaving, but in the sense of identity. Sometimes, it felt like he was caught between wanting to be a monster and wanting to be a man; and there were moments when he received the distinct impression that this was something he was never going to be allowed to truly form into any type of cohesion. He’d despaired of his character a long time ago, because his character didn’t exist outside of his relationship with Genesis and once he left HQ, he didn’t know what he was going to be...if he was really going to be anyone. Skewered between symbiosis and frenetic darkness...something whole but not. But he had this, and this was enough. 

“Why would I do that?” he grunted, choosing to ignore the comment in regards to moping. “The moment they made me General in interim they started treating me like a General. Making it official wouldn’t change anything.” Pulling his blade back, he let it waver for a moment before feinting to the left. “Regardless, I’m not staying. I’ve done what I needed to do.” 

The redhead deflected his next attack just the same but  _ let  _ the force of Sephiroth’s swing unbalance and knock the bokken out of those strong ivory fingers. That would have probably been enough to signify his partner’s intentions in terms of the culmination of their spar even through the surprise that was starting to bloom in the forefront of his mind. It was even more blatantly obvious when his-now-unarmed former comrade didn’t get away from his  _ kesa giri _ , forcing Sephiroth to rotate his grip at the last minute so as not to shatter the edge of the daitō against his lover’s clavicle. 

The older man was also near enough to be able to manipulate his hold and maneuver himself just so; the flat of the bokken was resting on the navy blue fabric covering the ex-soldier’s shoulder, the  _ sori _ facing the strong column on his opponent’s neck instead of the  _ ha _ . Standing almost chest to chest with their hands tangled in between the two of them, a shin was pressing against his-Genesis probably hooking a leg around his-and Sephiroth had to acknowledge that this was some sort of  _ hikiwake _ . 

“Sasuga wa Sefirosu, ka[1] ?” Sanguine lips were curved into a smirk, keen azure irises observing his visage even as the older man spoke yet again. “Should we continue or talk at dinner?”

The tactician in Sephiroth wanted to continue the battle. 

It seemed-however-that the tactician was only part of his mentality. This in of itself was strange because he usually went for the physical whether he wanted to or not. It was habitual. The younger man  _ was,  _ however, interested in the physicality of the leg wrapped around his waist. He could feel the muscle in the redhead’s thigh bunch with tension...like a spring wound taut. And the fingers grasping his were calloused...the grip firm and not punishing, but most of all  _ warm.  _ The silver-haired soldier pushed back because instinct told him he should; leaned into the body before him with a kind of hesitant restraint. Their noses nearly bumped before he drew back and tried to think objectively. The last time Genesis had caught him like this they’d ended up dropping their weapons. The memory behind it was so abruptly clear it was nearly crystalline in its quality...the beginning of something that was at the same time an end. And the emotion that rose in his throat was strong but not bitter...a kind of sadness borne from what they had lost...what he was sorry for and what he was grateful for.

Lifting his chin slightly to indicate his acquiescence, Sephiroth leaned forward until their lips were nearly brushing. When Genesis tilted his head in response, he let his lids drop slightly, until the blue haze before him was a well of sapphire. And maybe this was how it should have gone last time...slower...gentler...with more temperance and more care. His redheaded partner was still tense...and he knew he was expecting some sort of reversion to combat, but that was the furthest thing from his mind. He knew this didn’t make up for anything, that this didn’t change anything but he  _ wanted  _ in a way he didn’t know how to put into words. The daitō fell because he wanted it to, and he knew that it was the first time he’d ever willingly surrendered his weapon to anyone in a friendly fight. The first time he’d bowed out in a spar that wasn’t life-threatening by his own choice. The clatter at the finality of its descent seemed distant in his ears...seemed far away and negligible. Wrestling one of his hands from the former Commander’s grip he let it rise slowly...let it slide over the soft-hard arch of his lover’s cheek.

And then Sephiroth drew Genesis in and kissed him. 

Surprisingly, it was Genesis’ turn to be caught off guard this time; their roles reversed, it was the former Commander who was uncharacteristically unresponsive for a miniscule moment before seemingly coming to his senses. Returning ingress for ingress, like the same yin and yang he’d been thinking about earlier, his lover pressed close as those artistic and yet deadly fingers dove in his silvery mane. And Sephiroth didn’t know if it was because of the emotionalism that had burst forth in his mind earlier but somehow, maybe even irrationally, this felt different. A moan whose owner wasn’t really important got lost betwixt their lips as the nuance of it deepened, the smoldering fire from the beginning of their spar rekindled into passionate flames as those burning lips kept seeking his. 

With his other hand now freed, the silver-haired First reached for an ivory forearm, extricating his companion’s hand from his strands before intertwining their fingers while carding the digits of the other through fiery strands; and when the General reached the hair-tie, as distracted as he was, he couldn’t simply decide if he wanted to twist that molten auburn flame around his palm or just free it so those scarlet strands could cascade over dark blue-clad shoulders. To make the matters more difficult, Genesis had guided their joint hands downwards, and with a vague sort of understanding the younger man realized that it was the tie that held his partner’s hakama in place.

Sephiroth settled for the hair. 

Maybe it was something voyeuristic...or maybe it was a kind of fascination due to the fact that his partner had never worn his hair long but he eased the tie downwards until it fell loose...until he could tangle his fingers in thick fiery hair. He broke the kiss to observe...to watch as scarlet locks fell over his partner’s visage...the color contrast shocking against ivory skin. For a moment, he couldn’t do anything but stare. Then Genesis made an impatient noise and he crushed their mouths back together with fervor. This kiss was less focused...more hunger and less finesse and the brush of teeth against flushed vermillion before they found an angle. An adroit tongue found its way between and he drew it deep...shivered for the ardour of it before struggling with the tie that the former Commander had tried to push him towards earlier. The fabric parted after a moment of frantic fumbling and he groaned distractedly, frustrated with the amount of clothing he was going to have to get through but enchanted by it nonetheless. The chuckle that shivered between them was just on the edge of ragged and he pressed up against his partner so he could feel the burgeoning hardness of his arousal. The smile he received in return was a lascivious curve…warm and ravenous and seeking. Genesis returned the gesture and he wanted to rip everything off, wanted to throw his lover down on the tatami and ravish him until neither of them could remember their names. Eventually, they had to come up for air; breathing uneven, cheeks flushed, eyes unfocused even as they held each other in thrall.

“I think,” Sephiroth muttered. “That you should be dinner.” 

A licentious smile and a short, quiet laugh was his answer before there was the negligible acoustic of a buckle. When those azure irises were downcast to where deft fingers were pulling him forward somewhat, Sephiroth couldn’t help but follow their line of sight as well. A swish of a leather belt, out, out, and completely out of the way until the aforementioned item was dropped to the floor with a faint thud. The motions were accompanied by a patience that hadn’t been there a minute ago when the older man had ensnared him in a heady kiss, like they had all the time in the world. Even as their breaths were steadying, there was no denying the tension, the irresistible pull that was so tangible between them it was almost visible...a string drawing taut, and perhaps it was a game for both of them-in continuation of their spar-but one in which both of them were winners. The mischievous sanguine curve of his lover’s lips never left, even as Genesis gazed up at him from underneath bows of auburn lashes, digits poised on the button of his pants but not moving any further. 

“Considering that would be counterproductive to us talking,” His former comrade drew close, kiss-swollen lips just a breath away from the hollow under his ear, hot egress of air ghosting over his skin as he whispered seductively. “I might need more... _ persuasion _ to be ravished.”

It was tempting.

It was  _ so  _ tempting and everything in him insisted that he forget about whatever discussion they might want to have so he could find out exactly what tangas looked like on his lover. Still, there had been a few topics on his mind, and he knew that if they forewent that for sex it was very unlikely they would remember it afterwards. And there was the factor of dinner. He’d brought it with him and if they didn’t eat it it would get cold and they would have to lug it all the way back to HQ or to Genesis’ apartment in order to warm it up again. A half-formed idea came to mind that had him narrowing his eyes...mainly, that of Genesis in the middle of his apartment with no clothes on. And he’d never particularly liked all the greenery that he’d been forced to accumulate but the concept of his lover lying naked on his bed with...all that fiery hair in contrast to the white sheets and the green of the bamboo...sapphire eyes with widened pupils and flushed skin…. Swallowing, Sephiroth came to the conclusion that yes. Sex could wait. 

Carefully, so as not to offend or bring about the picture of rejection...he drew back a little bit and cupped the older man’s cheek. He could see Genesis’ acknowledgement of his egress...but he was quick to ameliorate it by pressing a slightly-more chaste kiss to his lips. 

“Do you think that persuasion could wait until we eat?” he murmured. “I don’t think you’ve seen my apartment yet.” The General raised a silver brow. “And my bed remains untested. I think that’s a grievous oversight on both of our parts.” 

He was favored again with that same quiet laugh as his partner drew back, shaking a red-wreathed head as he bent down to retrieve the hair tie from the ground. Sauntering past him to possibly pick up their bokken to put them back upon their perches on katanagake, Genesis uttered over a blue-clad shoulder. “I do not  _ test  _ beds. I break them.” For a moment, the General wondered if his attempt at keeping the peace considering his rather abrupt egress hadn’t really had any effect, and maybe he’d chosen the wrong words to try to convey his invitation. A little frustratedly he reasoned that neither of them were virgins and this wasn’t their first time that one of them had invited the other to their place. As he was half-heartedly getting himself ready for a witty retort in case the older man decided to continue their spar and subsequent foreplay into an argument instead of sex-which seemed to be their norm-it was the aforementioned man’s voice that brought him out of his contemplation. 

“...Coming?” was a thinly veiled impatient reply. Upon further examination, smoldering sapphire fires were observing him, a smirk on cerise lips. “I can’t wait to see it. And the dinner isn’t going to eat itself.” 

Against his will, Sephiroth felt his lip twitch. 

Instead of replying, he bent to pick up the takeout and raised an eyebrow, making his way to the exit as his lover moved to follow him. Exiting the dojo and waiting for his partner to lock up, he observed silently that the slums were much the same...and yet different. Solar power had done wonders for the levels of pollution suffusing the lower part of the city, and the building projects Shinra was heading were starting to show promise. On the upper plate, the reactors and the transference tunnels leading to them had been cleared. This made way for railed-off gaps that allowed sunlight to spill onto streets that had once been deprived of solar luminescence in their entirety. The result of this was the culmination of several parks with actual greenery and a few gardens. At this time of day, the radiance filtering through was orange in color...haloed in yellow and just a bit ethereal. There were a few people passing by on the streets, and while they were given some curious glances, no one stopped to speak with them and he was a little bit relieved. 

They set a fairly brisk pace, neither of them wanting to linger very long looking at anything specific. Sephiroth called for a transport helicopter back to the Upper Plate and they spent the ride talking of idle things...mostly in regard to their careers to pass time. The younger man let himself surreptitiously appreciate the way Genesis’ hair caught the light of the dying sun, looking away whenever he thought he might get caught in the act, or feigning interest in something over the redhead’s shoulder. He wasn’t sentimental, and he was admirative of few things and fewer people, but the former Commander was the sole individual who could truly garner a little bit of awe in him...though he’d never tell him so. He was fairly certain he’d get thrown out of the helicopter if he did. Thankfully, their pilot was circumspect enough to know better than to try to get involved in their conversation, and he remained silent throughout the flight. When they’d disembarked onto the landing pad outside of Transportation, Sephiroth watched as Genesis adjusted his duffle bag before opening his mouth.

“If you break my bed, I think it’s only fair that you should pay for it,” he remarked slyly. 

With a beaming grin his lover came at him full-on, shoving the side of his body against his and they careened toward the rooftop ledge; almost immediately, Sephiroth righted their path and shoved back, which seemed to be enough to coax that rare melodiously merry laughter out of those cerise lips. It was again one of those infrequent moments that the silver-haired man couldn’t stop and stare, feel the contagious joy of his partner stretch over his own mouth in a genuine smile as he took in the sight before him. Radiant strands wrought with fire illuminated by the hues of twilight; usually sharp blue eyes softened and sparkling with glee, framed by tiny lines at their corners that made the younger man want to trace them with his fingertips; that he sometimes did, especially in early mornings on weekends when Genesis favored him with a sleepy smile. And those eyes, they were watching him with a myriad of emotions even as his companion sobered up, even as that irresistible mouth curved into a smile that mirrored his; those pale features, lighted up with the orange of the sol, arranged in an impossible expression that only the redhead could manage.

Ivory fingers intertwined with his, an auburn head nodding toward the door, and they set at a slower-but compared to the ordinary still brisk-pace. Cadets saluted both of them at the door which both of them disregarded more or less, and soon they were navigating the winding corridors of the Shinra headquarters. The elevator ride they spent in comfortable tranquility, sharing glances and locking gazes even as their digits kept brushing along one another, flexing and unflexing in their hold. And when the ding signifying their arrival on the floor of his apartment sounded it was only then that they broke eye contact-as prone to bouts of silent battles of will as they were-and strode toward his living quarters. He had the satisfaction of bearing witness to his partner’s surprise as they stopped at the door a couple of apartments away from the cafeteria while the green-eyed man swiped his keycard in the slot. Suddenly-and a little inconveniently-self conscious, the silver-haired SOLDIER hesitated. When Genesis gave him a curious look, he made a face.

“It’s...a little bit different than my old apartment,” he said, aware that the statement was entirely cryptic. 

With that said, he opened the door and they stepped through. Not waiting to see his lover’s reaction, he toed off his boots and shrugged out of his coat; hanging it on a waiting hook before stepping out of the whitewashed foyer and into the living room. Most of the furniture was low to the floor; he’d bought a kotatsu about a month ago and he hadn’t told anyone because he slept under it when his shifts ran over into strange hours. The aforementioned piece of furniture was surrounded by four zaisu that he moved out of the way whenever he felt like taking a nap. The flooring was tatami; mostly because it was easy to clean but also because he appreciated the aesthetic and it wasn’t costly to maintain. 

The kitchen was to the rear; open to the living room with ivory countertops and stainless steel appliances. He didn’t use it as much as he’d have liked to but the cooking surface was covered with plants and he didn’t have the heart to throw any of them away or ‘forget’ to tend to them. Most of his decorations were minimalist but he had several bamboo wall hangings he was rather fond of and he’d taken the time to select a few nondescript items. Sephiroth had-to his embarrassment-managed to spend several thousand gil on a waterfall fixture inlaid in the wall between the living room and the bedroom. It was soon after Genesis had ‘died’ and he’d been looking at it for an hour in a shop and something in him savagely insisted his partner would have bought it already and he hadn’t really thought about it. 

Setting their meal down on what remained of the counter space, he busied himself with trying to clear some of his horticulture in order to warm up their quickly-cooling dinner. A set of twin  ***thumps* ** by the door told him his redheaded guest had taken off his shoes and he glanced somewhat hastily at the picture frame next to the sink. He didn’t know if he ought to have taken it down...but it was the picture Angeal had shown him the night he’d gotten ridiculously drunk and decided to kiss him. The dark-haired First had given it to him eventually; had shown up at his door and proffered it to him with a weary kind of smile and he hadn’t been able to refuse. It was the only picture he possessed that was a memory and not a landscape. He kept it next to the sink so he could glance at it while he was washing the dishes but no one else needed to know that. And maybe the memories that had followed the scene were bitter, but the memory in of itself was a quiet thing...a happy thing and while he’d initially resented it, he didn’t anymore. 

“There’s plates in that cabinet,” Sephiroth remarked idly, waving to his left. 

There were no comments from behind him except for the rustle of his lover’s hakama and the almost inaudible auditory knowledge of his breaths. When the gait of the other occupant of the room didn’t near his post, once he was finished with the task of displacing their dinner inside a pot and putting it on the electric cooktop, the silver-haired man turned around to figure out why it was taking the older man so long to come up with an answer or for him to even acknowledge his statement.

There, in the middle of his living room, was the very reason he’d made his apartment into how it was now. Pearlescent forearms were exposed from almost elbow down-where the sleeve of his uwagi had fallen short-as those long fingers made a calm and curious perusal of the aforementioned nondescript items before moving to the next piece. And Sephiroth was really content to stand where he’d been and observe, fascinated by the sudden intake of breath as Genesis lingered by the bamboo hangings on his way to the inlaid wall mounted waterfall. Those same digits tentatively reached for the crystalline droplets, the music of their soothing melody broken by the faint pitter-patter of them against his lover’s fingertips.

For an infinitesimal moment, the General was overcome by an urge to wrap that pale exquisite physicality in finest of silks, layer after layer, just so he could disrobe him in the middle of his washitsu; to feel the smooth fabric part and reveal yards of alabaster epidermis, to thread his fingers in the waterfall of fiery tresses and luxuriate in the effervescence of the individual that was Genesis Rhapsodos.

The older man had his back to him, visage obscured with a fringe of auburn when his shoulders slumped forward just slightly, miniscule in a way no other would notice, as the hand extricated itself and rose to the same face Sephiroth  _ wanted _ to see. He figured, at this point, that he should say something. It was probably strange to see this...though in what way he didn’t know. It wasn’t particularly his style...but it was something he’d made into a project because he cared about it. And he didn’t know how to describe it...his motivation behind creating such a space. It wasn’t exactly innocent, and it was probably a little bit selfish.

“Before…” he began quietly, before halting. The General stopped because he was-frankly- _ terrible  _ at this. “When you were gone...it was difficult. I wanted to live because I knew you would have wanted me to, but I wanted to remember you.” Pushing away from the counter, he circumvented it to stand at the edge of the hallway. “I didn’t want to linger...but I wanted to...keep  _ something _ and I didn’t have anything.” The silver haired Soldier swallowed. “I tried to create a space that reminded me of you...not really in the sense of style...though I guess that’s a bit of it. But this...it’s peaceful. Quiet. You always...you’ve always made me feel peaceful.” He closed his eyes. “I could come home and just...let it all slip away.” Lifting heavy lids, he glanced at the floor-level chairs. “Sometimes I’d imagine you were here...waiting…” Silver hair fell over one shoulder as he tilted his head. “Maybe it was just love” he murmured. “I just wanted something that reminded me of your love. Something simple, clean.” Pacing forward again, he grasped the sleeve of the older man’s shirt. “And I know it wasn’t simple between us, but that’s just how I saw you. How you made me feel...how you still do.” Closer and he was pressed against his lover’s spine, his chin on Genesis’ shoulder. Attempting to bring some humor into the situation, he continued. “And don’t think I’m going sweet on you.” he muttered teasingly. 

The man in his arms laughed...just like he had that night on the phone, and this time it was the reality of the sound not an embodiment of it converted from digital signals into analogs and out through the speaker of his phone. If it wasn’t quiet, Sephiroth was fairly sure it’d fill the entirety of his walls. It had the same nostalgic quality to it, brought forth on the wings of his lover’s coagulated emotions, and again, as his partner turned his head to somewhat face him, those cerulean lakes were swirling with too many of them. A lower vermillion trembled slightly as Genesis leant their heads together, his misty azure irises hidden behind red-wreathed lids. There was a sharp inhale as the older man pressed closer to him, fingers diving into his silvery mane and trimmed nails scraping against his scalp. 

“I love you…” was the tremulous whisper. “I know I don’t say it enough, because it can’t...it doesn’t even scratch the surface of how I feel about you.” A gravid pause. “Sephiroth, you mean  _ everything  _ to me…everything. If you-...” And the green-eyed First closed his eyes even as he let his hand rise to cradle the side of his lover’s visage, even as his thumb brushed the lonely droplet of salinity away. “- _ Die, _ ” Genesis choked, and the General wanted to shush him, but felt like his partner needed to get those words out; that maybe it wasn’t a good idea for him to cut him off. “I die. Well, maybe not physically...but I wouldn’t be the man that I am with you.” Another intermission in which they just  _ breathed _ , together in the here and now. Sephiroth didn’t know what the future held for them, but enveloped in the bittersweet peace of having his lover close, here in his embrace, that dark pessimistic part of him faded, grew somnolent and almost disappeared. “You’re my  _ home _ , to you I belong, my  _ Ashayam _ .”

And with that the feverish vermillion of Genesis’ mouth closed over his.

He wanted to say that he felt the same, but a part of him knew that it was understood. Inhaling, the younger man breathed in the essence of the kiss...took it deep and let it bloom in his chest. Cupping damp cheeks for a minute, he let his thumbs swipe upwards to wipe that irriguousness away. And he didn’t take it lightly...the tangibility of the response...he committed it to memory because it was both beautiful and aching….because they had missed so much and yet gained so much. The juxtaposition of the moment wasn’t lost to him; the fact that the emotionalism behind the apartment was present within it. It left him a little bit staggered, a little bit unhinged because he  _ wanted  _ but at the same time he knew there were things they needed to discuss. But he wanted to let his fingers tangle in that fiery hair, wanted to memorize the body beneath all those layers. As if in response to his thoughts the older man arched slightly...rubbed against him and all thought was stolen away. Sephiroth heard his breath catch...felt it become ragged and needy. 

...The food did smell good. 

He acknowledged this dimly as he nearly treated his companion with what would have been an impromptu-and likely very cold-bath in the decorative fountain. He managed to push them back into a solid wall and not into any sort of water...managed to get a hand on a lithe hip as he nipped at a lower lip before sucking with a kind of distracted enthusiasm. And the fingers running through his hair were an ambrosia; they left him lazy, languid and lax beneath their touch. The kiss slowed somewhat, became something deep and passionate and  _ sweet  _ and he choked off the groan that rose in his throat out of reflex. Genesis tugged gently at thick, moonlight colored strands and the General in interim shivered, began an easy...steady grind of their hips that had him seeing stars. And they really ought to stop so they could eat because if they didn’t now both of them would be exceedingly recalcitrant if they had to later. 

At that moment, his stomach chose to growl thunderously. 

If he wasn’t busy metaphysically glaring at said body organ for ruining such a tangible moment, if he wasn’t busy trying valiantly to push down the different-natured heat rising up his neck at the same time, Sephiroth- _ a mutinously and quite possibly brainless part of his personality _ , he ameliorated-might have wanted his stomach to growl again even if it was to hear the individual in his arms laugh just as he was now. 

It was, he begrudgingly acknowledged, a good thing. Because that meant Genesis wasn’t crying. When the older man pulled away and disentangled them, the calloused tips of his digits slid against his forearms and hands before he sauntered away; and his kitchen seemed to be the destination the redhead had in mind. 

Not standing around, he went to retrieve his chabudai as the acoustic of cabinet doors opening and slamming shut in rapid succession reached his ears. Apparently, his partner had been so engrossed in the discovery of his new apartment that he hadn’t even heard his comment. The otherwise negligible acoustic came to a halt however, a cabinet door opening but not closing just as quickly. Sephiroth realized that maybe, he shouldn’t have let the redhead inside the kitchen...because the photo was there, and his lover was already high-strung. Thankfully though, there was a soft thud, followed by the clink of plates against immaculate countertops, and the General who hadn’t even realized he’d stopped in his auditory ‘voyeurism’ continued what he’d set about to do.

Finding his Wutain dining table, he fixed the four collapsible legs before emerging into the living room and setting it down on the tatami he’d allocated as his dining room, so to speak. Taking a pair of zaisu and placing them on either of side of the circular, golden oak chabudai on his way to kitchen, Sephiroth let his hand linger for a miniscule instant on the small of his lover’s back in his pursuit for a bottle of _Shōchū_, a pair of _ochoko_, and some ice. By the time he was done, their dinner was set on the table. It seemed that his partner’s frantic search had paid off because below each dish was a pair of hashi-with their ends wrapped in paper towel-along with a pair of cutlery. 

The younger man had decided to get take out from the sushi restaurant Tseng had mentioned on his way to Genesis’ dojo. And it seemed, if the indulgent smile on rubicund lips was any indication, his former comrade was rather pleased with his choice. A kiss was bestowed on his cheek as he set down the drinkware and his aged distilled beverage before finally both of them took their respective seats.

“ _ Itadakimasu. _ ” was uttered quietly as the former Commander dipped his head temporarily.

Sephiroth sincerely appreciated the fact that-despite their closeness-neither of them expected the other to talk excessively while they ate. In terms of his collective-and extremely hazy-memories of dates before Genesis...most of them consisted of his chosen dinner conversants chattering incessantly while he tried to eat between questions. It was-he had found-exceedingly difficult to enjoy your meal when you were forced to put it down every fifteen seconds. The sushi was good, and the General in interim made a note to keep the establishment in question in mind for future culinary ventures. It hadn’t been cheap but the price of good food was negligible when pitted against enjoyment. Somewhat apprehensively, the silver-haired Soldier turned his thoughts to their imminent discussion. 

They needed to decide what they wanted to do. 

Not in the sense of urgency, but because they now had the opportunity to seriously consider their future, and it wasn't something he wanted to dismiss. Standing, Sephiroth proffered a hand in the direction of the former Commander's plate and stacked it atop his when it was given. Crossing over to the sink, he placed the aforementioned items inside. Deciding that washing could wait, he returned to the kotatsu in time to lend his companion a hand in putting away the dining table. Once that was done, they returned to the area where they’d eaten with their  _ ochoko.  _ cupped in their hands. The General was generally more partial to whiskey but he’d bought the bottle because he was feeling nostalgic and it was on sale. They briefly debated on turning on the kotatsu, and after a few minutes of deliberation they went for it because it was warm and they weren’t exactly an in-home stable elsewhere in Midgar. And it was pleasant to share it with someone; especially someone who could truly appreciate the aesthetic of it. 

“Tell me about Mideel.”

The minute the words spilled out of Sephiroth’s mouth, he was surprised...and he wasn’t. Because he’d been so hateful and resentful about Genesis’ time away...however privately. And he could tell that the redhead was equally surprised because he paused mid-drink and looked at him like he’d gone a bit screwy. An ache rose in his chest as he realized he’d never really bothered to explore his partner’s side of their year apart. He’d never asked because at the time, he didn’t want to know...because he was afraid that Genesis would tell him that he preferred being away from him than being with him. And he’d been afraid of change; afraid of acknowledging that maybe his former comrade had changed in ways that he hadn’t...that he’d gone down a path he couldn’t follow because of his darkness. So when the former Commander continued to stare at him, as if he wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard him right, he tilted his head and smiled crookedly.

“I want to know.” 

It seemed that his lover needed to be more inebriated for them to talk about that, however he didn’t voice anything that could’ve been taken as his dismay; just reached over to pour himself another drink, knocked it back before finally setting the glass down on the table. Cerise lips twitched with unuttered verbosity before the redhead broke the silence at length. “I don’t know what you want to hear.” Azure irises looked away, busying themselves with boring holes at one of his bamboo hangings as pale forearms rose to cross loosely over a blue-clad chest, fingers wrapping around a bicep. “The first few months are somewhat hazy. Mako withdrawal. Those old couple from our vacation eons ago, the Tanakas, Jitsuke and Hidemaro, they took me in after some villager had found me washed up on the shores of a Lifestream geyser. I don’t know how…” 

A thumb was insistently brushing over the fabric, the shuffle of epidermis against the textile a negligible acoustic before the older man became aware of it, and dropped his arms to his lap, cerulean eyes downcast. “I had nightmares for a long time. Sometimes I saw her, the Goddess, rejecting me…and I kept falling and waking up.” A gravid sigh, after which slowly, really slowly his partner raised his head, a bittersweet smile stretching over his mouth. “I cried a lot, you know. I thought that maybe my tears would run dry eventually. or if I didn’t move from the futon, if I tried to will myself to fade away, I would. I even thought about suicide, but if what I did with Omega hadn’t been enough to kill me, then I’m not sure what would.” A huff of laughter. “And during all this, they cared for me patiently...and it was a little bit like Gillian and Matthias-‘Geal’s dad.” And the joyous curvature of those lips was gone again at the mention of the name. “We had lots of good memories there, as ephemeral as those moments were. And there were also the falls...your secret haven in our incarceration.” The melodious voice trembled, his former comrade breaking eye contact again as his mouth parted to let an exhale pass through.

“I learnt to live with your memories surrounding me. And with you gone, I had nothing else to do. I wanted to repay their kindness and they had offered me a place to stay. I think I was waiting for news to come from Midgar as well before I could wander Gaia until I could crumble to dust.” Another gravid intermission, and the silence couldn’t be more tangible...an all-encompassing presence in the room, all around and even between them in a see-through wall of air. “Sometimes, I imagined you there going through Katas, caught myself wishing for a flash of silver hair which would never be there. Farming kept me occupied as HQ did you. It was familiar, not too much but somewhat...You know what I mean.” 

Genesis fell quiet yet again, gazing down at some point on his lap, but before long there was a quiet chuckle. “He told me home is where the heart is. He wasn’t wrong.”

He did know what he meant.

Swallowing against the tightness in his chest, Sephiroth closed his eyes and exhaled. There was still a part of him that was unhappy...though now he was unhappy that he hadn’t been there...that he hadn’t looked for Genesis. Maybe he had given up too soon, maybe he hadn’t listened to his heart when he was trying so hard to think with his head. And he’d cursed his mentality enough at this point that he knew it was pointless to do so again...but that didn’t take away from his remorse. He was-intimately-aware that his partner’s handle on his mentality was occasionally tenuous, that it had been desperately tenuous. On Funaraoi, he’d attempted to ameliorate that, tried to reach through and beyond it because he  _ wanted  _ to fix things...wanted to face this. And maybe he should have asked more often...maybe he should have asked before this...but he was too afraid of looking past everything to do so. 

“No,” he replied hoarsely. “He wasn’t.” 

It was pathetically difficult for him to force the words out, for him to subvert his selfishness. Some part of him despaired over his reticence. He shoved it aside...ground it into psychical dust in order to  _ focus.  _

“I just wanted to ask because I haven’t,” he said quietly. “I should have sooner. And I’m sorry you had to go through that on your own.” When Genesis opened his mouth, he hurried onwards. “I know you weren’t  _ alone  _ alone...but you didn’t have any familiar faces around you...you didn’t have the familiar support. I think...in your position...I wouldn’t have done near as well as you did. That takes strength...bravery. But I wanted to hear you...sometimes I think I don’t hear you enough.” He smiled-a little bitterly-before tapping his head with his forefinger. “Something’s always going on there, it’s easy to overlook things.” Reaching across the kotatsu, he gently tugged his partner’s arm until he lifted both of them...taking the older man’s hands within his own once he did. “I think I flatter you enough,” he said with a teasing amount of dryness. “But I love you, and if you’re spoiled rotten it’s entirely your own fault. I’m glad you’re here...and thank you, for choosing to live. That’s not an easy choice.” Squeezing somewhat cold knuckles, he tilted his head. “I wouldn’t be adverse to going there...to visit them...if you wanted.”

Something shifted in the quiet of their environment until it was more of that shared tranquility than something other. Genesis rearranged their points of connection, cerulean eyes following the movement as Sephiroth’s hands were turned palm-up before ivory fingers wrapped around his, a calloused thumb brushing the back of his knuckles. Moments passed by in the soft pitter-patter of his wall-mounted waterfall, droplets sluicing together to form the stream of time.

“Thank you.” was the quiet reply, and again for a long while his lover didn’t say anything before the sentiment was repeated. “Thank you for choosing to live as well. For being the survivor I know you to be, for your admirable will.” The older man’s hold tightened around his hand infinitesimally. “I want you to know how precious you are to me, but I just don’t know how to say it. You’d be quite surprised to know how lacking words can be, despite my infatuation with them.” A bright chuckle. “I want you to know that whatever’s in there, you can talk to me about it...you don’t have to do it alone, you don’t have to go down any road alone, that is, if you want me to accompany you. I’ll be there-I’ll  _ try  _ to be there as long and as much as it’s in my control.” And it was understood why the redhead ameliorated it. “We don’t have to visit there if it’s too painful for you. Though it reminds me of something I’ve been meaning to ask.” Aeonian features reassembled into a hard-soft neutrality laced with equal parts affection and curiosity swirling in those sapphire pools. “You don’t intend to stay you said. What do you mean?”

Sephiroth wanted to address the words said before, because he was grateful for them. But Genesis’ expression told him that his gratuity was understood without him having to verbalize it. And it was strange to acknowledge that this was enough without having to give it voice...strange to move forward without that constant reciprocation...but they still did. Narrowing his eyes, the silver-haired First considered the question before him. Truthfully, it was something he thought that they’d decide together...where they wanted to go, what they wanted to do. At the same time he knew that he hadn’t made his intent very clear, that he’d been obscure about it...possibly because it was obscure in his own mind at the time. He valued Shinra because it had helped him become who he was. The space between all of it was painful, extremely painful...but the end course was what he was focused on. Nothing about him was entirely whole...neither of them were whole but they were together. That being said, he didn’t want to continue their togetherness here...something about that didn’t seem right...didn’t seem fair for either of them.

And Sephiroth was  _ tired.  _

It was even stranger to acknowledge that. He didn’t want to stand for something anymore...didn’t want to have to govern anything anymore. He valued his men, he was grateful for them. Even more so, he valued Vincent, but Vincent had his own life; he didn’t need to spend every waking moment around him anymore. And there was a part of him that suspected that his father was struggling to move on because they were still there...because they were as much ghosts of what once was as Angeal was. Sephiroth and Genesis were scions of an age that was dead and buried. And as much as they could pretend that they were a cohesive part of it...they weren’t. Neither of them would find healing in HQ...there was too much there...too much darkness. You could fix the darkness, but you couldn’t take it out of the individuals who had weathered it. It was a heavy thing...sometimes it was burdensome. And as powerful as he was...as enhanced as he was...he’d spent his whole life working...spent the entirety of his existence looking out of chrome and steel onto a world he didn’t understand. Exhaling, Sephiroth looked at his partner and smiled crookedly.

“I want to retire,” he said quietly. “I want to give up my position and see the world with you.” 

Something shivered in Genesis’ eyes...something beautiful, something blue, before the corners of those lips were inexorably tugged upwards. A red-wreathed head ducked as their joint hands were raised, his lover leaning forward to support himself on his elbows while butterfly kisses were bestowed on his knuckles. Weirdly enough, the way those fingers were now wrapped around his felt almost reverent. It wasn’t the first time the older man had treated him that way; and as much as it left him breathless and wondering how it was even possible, Sephiroth couldn’t help but feel that multifaceted part of his psych want after it...to catch it like the ethereal light that his partner seemed to associate with him and refract it into effervescent hues.

“And I, with you.” The gesture from earlier was repeated again, even as a pale cheek rested itself against their hands while Sephiroth leant forward to mirror his partner’s pose. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Something shifted in the emotions visible through the windows of the redhead’s soul, but it was too brief for the younger man to decipher. “I think we could run our bank accounts dry and if we needed money, we could dispatch monsters. It’d be good exercise too. Though I have to ask, what would you want to do, after?”

Realistically, he’d probably eventually kill something.

It was-Sephiroth reflected a bit dryly-probably better that he killed monsters in lieu of killing people. And Gaia certainly had no shortage of monsters. Other than that, he was unsure of what exactly he could do. Feasibly, he could probably land a job anywhere other than Wutai, but he wasn’t really looking for a paycheck. And he  _ certainly  _ wasn’t looking for someone to dictate his hours. The idea of resigning from one job only to take up another was a little bit abhorrent. Contemplatively, the younger man acknowledged that he hadn’t ever really bothered to explore any passions while in service to Shinra. He didn’t know if he liked art or music...that was something he could pursue. With the world to consider, there were a plethora of possibilities.

“I’m not sure,” Sephiroth answered truthfully. “Right now...I just know there are a lot of things I haven’t tried to do that I might like to.” He shifted a bit self-consciously. “I know most people have passions...projects. My passion was always the battlefield, but maybe I need to find something new.” Running a thumb over pale knuckles, he smiled. “I think it ought to be something to do with my hands,” he mused. “Maybe pottery? And killing monsters is something I could never say no to.” Pausing, he frowned contemplatively. “We could consider mechanics as well... it's not like we're completely ignorant in terms of how things work. The pay isn't stellar but I don't think that would be our aim in any case.” Freeing one hand so he could stroke over the wealth of his lover's hair, Sephiroth continued. “What about you? Have you considered anything?”

At the beginning of his words, and specifically as he mentioned ‘passions’ and ‘projects’ a smile was dawning on Genesis’ lips; at ‘pottery’ though, it was a bright, beaming expression on pale features. It seemed that whatever he’d said had caused the gears in the older man’s head turn, in the same manner as the times that brilliant head of auburn was coming up with nefarious plans that either drove Sephiroth insane, or breathless, and sometimes both. So maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised when his former comrade disentangled their hands, rose to his full height and traversed the perimeter of the kotatsu only to dispose himself without ceremony on the General’s lap. Again, artistic digits found his, the slide of calloused palms against one another before their fingers were interlaced and drawn inexorably forward between the two of them. Azure eyes were tracing along the length of each ivory digit as they were drawn further up, and a kiss was bestowed against the thin sensitive skin at the inside of his wrist, held there even as Genesis spoke, verbalization ghosting over his hand.

“Hmmm, I’ve thought of a few things, but I don’t know if they’d work...I mean there’s farming,” And both of them chuckled, Sephiroth cupped a pale cheek, thumb passing to and fro just under the almost invisible freckles adorning high cheekbones. “Killing monsters is good, but I think your idea about mechanics is even better.” With a playful tone and smoldering fervent flames dancing in blue depths, he added. “There’s always drawing and painting…” Another mischievous chuckle. “Imagine how crowded it’d be if I held an exhibition, filled entirely with your portraits...especially nude ones,” With a mock-thoughtful expression, their eye contact was broken. “Though I might be too possessive and jealous to want to share you  _ with those people. _ ” The last words were spat. “They’re unworthy. Nevermind.” 

Just as abruptly, he was fixed with those same burning irises, fingers intertwining again at the redhead’s unspoken behest. “Actually, I was thinking if you went for pottery,” With his voice lowering and getting a ragged lilt, Genesis’ lips drew close but not enough, a breath away. “I might end up being a sculptor.” Covetous digits ran down his chest over his shirt. “We might need a bathroom nearby,” With a smirk those lips started mouthing along his jaw. “Because I’m intent on getting clay on you... _ everywhere… _ ” Undulating slowly on top of him even as the silver-haired man’s chin was nudged upwards, Genesis continued, breathy, heady, and cerulean lakes were darkened with desire. “I might want to pamper you until you get your  _ passions _ and  _ projects _ figured out…no occupation… _ just explore _ .”

_ “The world is yours.  _ Just take it. _ ” _

He was-intimately-aware of the circumstances in which those last words had been spoken. Strangely, the acknowledgement of it didn’t bring him any grief this time; though it wasn’t in the sense of failing to acknowledge the circumstances. No, it was more out of the ability to move on...to circumvent. And he'd never thought they would get to this point...never thought they'd manage to achieve anything close to it...because the fact that  _ Genesis  _ could say those words was telling as well...but they had. And the idea of Genesis being too jealous to share his nude body with anyone-even if it was via a painting-was both endearing and entirely acceptable to him because he wasn't keen on the entire world knowing what he looked like without clothes on either. 

Letting one hand rest on the small of Genesis’ back he tilted his head so he could draw them into a kiss. And it wasn't necessarily a mindless thing...it was careful, appreciative. The younger man's free palm cupped the redhead's jaw as he communicated his acquiescence with his lips. And it still boiled down to the fact that-given other choices-he would still choose the individual before him. Nothing had changed about the fact that he was content with having Genesis and nothing else. ... Especially when he now knew what it was like to exist without him. That didn't change his desire to see the world with him...it just made him grateful. 

“With you,” he murmured against plush lips. “I'll take it with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations**: 
> 
> **[1]**_さすがはセフィロス か? :_ More or less “I’m impressed, Sephiroth, hmm?” or “as expected of Sephiroth, hm?” or the same “all hail Sephiroth” line Angeal says in the Junon simulation.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Okay, this line of story ends here. I'm sorry if there were parts that were simply too heartbreaking. I cried while reading and writing those parts and was depressed for days. Holding myself back from repeating the same thing when I was rereading and editing the chapters (as much as I was able to) was really hard, but I somehow managed it. Regardless, I am sorry, and I also apologize for typos, plot holes, mistakes, and any other thing that shouldn't have been there but was. Constructive criticism and feedback, especially in areas that need amelioration, is very much appreciated.
> 
> It was a privilege having your readership, so thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts and emotions. I hope that you enjoyed this journey, and I hope to see you around. 
> 
> Thank you again, and wish you all the best.
> 
> -Darksilversilhouette


	25. Chapter Twenty One: Alternate Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, let's have one last column-POV before the story ends, shall we? As with the previous occurrences of the phenomenon, try reading one or two paragraphs from Angeal's point of view this time before jumping over to Vincent's, and vice versa. Hopefully it's not too inconvenient.

It was finally the day.

Angeal had been looking forward to today for more than one reason; certainly more than one reason, yes.

They’d invited Sephiroth and Genesis over–as per usual of their get-togethers whenever their respective parties had time–in order to inform them of their decision. The results, on his childhood friend’s part, had been as the dark-haired First had expected. The redhead’s cerulean eyes had darted between the two of them before their owner had burst out into peals of laughter. On the other hand, his green-eyed partner had observed them in deep consideration and contemplation for the entirety of how long it took for the former Commander to sober up. It had been Sephiroth who had first congratulated them in a tone that was too serious, but whatever Angeal had been thinking had been abruptly cut short as Genesis had come forward to kiss a corner of his mouth. It had been with a voice laced with humor that the older man had explained that he’d kissed the groom-to-be before and now it was his turn; but since Angeal was already a committed man he’d have to abstain from kissing him on the lips for the sake of his own life. The redhead had then proceeded to congratulate both of them with some more staidness.

But  _ that  _ had not been nowhere near the end of his best friend’s shenanigans.

Two weeks before their agreed date, Genesis had scheduled for each of them to be taken along a shopping spree with the redheaded ex-SOLDIER and his silver-haired partner to find them suitable wedding attires. When they had queried why they couldn’t do it all together in one day, a scoff was what had greeted them along with a blithe  _ ‘That’s not the way things are done’ _ . 

From that day onwards, the former Commander had veritably turned into a by proxy bridezilla- _ or groomzilla _ for that matter-and commandeered the whole wedding and everyone in their quartet, quite veritably making what was about the two of them into something a vision the redhead seemed to have been accosted with. In all honesty, though, it hadn’t been that bad, and they didn’t need to look for someone to plan their big day with the older man taking the reins. After purchase, their suits had been promptly confiscated by a scarlet-haired ex-SOLDIER so each of them wouldn’t be able to see the other’s before the ceremony. Following that, they had also been informed that with the first part of their mission accomplished, they could now progress to the second phase, which had been an all together bachelor party.

It hadn’t been anything different from their usual get-togethers, though it was obvious that the redhead and his partner had gone to lengths to make this about them and to prevent it from turning into a repetition of the first night they’d had Genesis over. It had been all well and good, until they’d been informed that they won’t be able to be with each other until the day of the wedding. That had been the hardest part yet, and while he’d have preferred to hold Vincent for as long as he could or at least kiss him goodbye and goodnight, he’d been immediately dragged away by the redhead to the other side of the metropolis-to his apartment-while Sephiroth and his father had remained at the dark-haired First living quarters; or at least, that’s what he’d ventured to guess, because texting and calling had been off limits too. 

Going to the dojo with Genesis had helped occupy his otherwise free time, and made it a bit easier when he missed his crimson-gazed lover too terribly. It had been during one such moments of longing and wishing for his partner’s presence that the former General had realized that he had nothing on his person that would remind him of the ebon-haired gunslinger, except for what he remembered of their times together. He and his companion had never entertained the concept of photographs, therefore Angeal had decided to share these thoughts with the older man whenever they would finally settle down together.

Waking up on Genesis’ sofa bed earlier today, he’d been faced with an empty apartment save for the instructions that had been left around the place, like breadcrumbs, in the form of sticky notes. His suit had been transferred here by the auburn-haired ex-First’s lover the day before, and seeing his two brainless friends necking-even though briefly-in the doorway had tugged on something in his heart, but it wouldn’t be long now.

A simple white suede jacket that ended several inches shy of his matching suede-clad knees was hugging his torso, lined with silver buttons that ran along the front, where Angeal had left them open, and a pair of those same buttons adorning each cuff. Underneath he wore a crisp white dress-shirt and an ivory cream tie. 

For some reason, he’d taken a good thirty minutes contemplating shaving his stubble in the mirror, but in the end-ignoring the note Genesis had left him by the bathroom mirror-Angeal had decided against it just because he wanted to hear the soft sandpaper acoustic of Vincent’s fingers running through it when they’d finally seal their vows with a kiss. Finally, having pulled his hair in a loose ponytail at the back of his head and putting on his matching desert boots-courtesy of Genesis’ fashion tips-the dark-haired soldier made his way to the car that had been waiting for him in the street to take him to their destination. 

Sitting there in the backseat and making a trek through winding highways down to the renovated slums, Angeal couldn’t help but acknowledge how the sight that was meeting his eyes was so entirely different from the slums of yesteryears. With the mako reactors out of the power grid, the pathways that had connected them to the HQ, which also distributed power throughout the city and separated the sectors more or less, were removed from the upper plate. Safety measures had been implemented in their stead so no one would fall from the impossible drop, but their absence now allowed those on the lower plate to have their share of the golden rays that illuminated the lush greenery of parks underneath. It seemed like a whole new place with its asphalted streets and boulevards, with some houses undergoing repairs and some being built from the ground up. 

He hadn’t really noticed the smile that had crept up on his face as he watched it all go by.

The trip that had once been their routine took much longer because Vincent wasn’t there with him, but at the same time it didn’t; because the car soon pulled up along Aerith’s church. Despite his multiple attempts at persuading the brunette, the building was still in the same state as it had been, and the last of the Cetras had promised him that it would remain so as long as she was alive. The intricacies of how such a thing was possible was beyond him, but then the car came to a halt, and they had finally arrived.

Two other cars were there, both with company plates, and Angeal couldn’t believe that he was late to their wedding; the dark-haired First had to actively push the anxiety that rushed to the fore as he fussed with his attire while getting out of the car and thanking the driver. Watching it leave, he averted his gaze to the wooden double doors; their handles adorned with white lilies and the smallest of white bows, ribbons twirling in a gentle breeze. 

Out of habit, he sent a prayer to the Goddess before taking the first step. For a moment of humorous self-flagellation, Angeal wondered if he was excited and at the same time nervous enough to fall face-first just a step short of the door. Thankfully, no such blunder occurred. The aperture creaked loudly as it turned on its hinges, and as he stepped over the threshold he knew that his cheeks must be burning because  _ what kind of a groom would be late to his own wedding? _ Glancing briefly over at the altar, he noticed Sephiroth and Genesis there, all suited up, with Veld in the middle of them, while Aerith, Lazard, and Reeve sat there on the pews. Then, his sapphire irises quickly darted to his left to where the presence of his lover was most prominent against his consciousness...and he wanted to be all apologies for being late and making him wait, but in all honesty, he was effectively tongue-tied and somewhat breathless by what he was seeing. 

Dimly, Angeal Hewley realized that it was entirely possible for a former General and a soldier of his caliber to make a rather blithering fool of himself in a matter as simple as marriage.

Because there, with his beautiful crimson gaze and barely-there smile that was enough to lighten up his whole world, was standing Vincent Valentine. The love of his life. The only individual he’d given his heart to and had been given his in return. And he didn’t know how he could walk away to the opposite side of the aisle-separated by those intricate stone pillars and the main space of the church-with the amount and number of emotions he was feeling in that moment.

Vincent was wearing a double-breasted suit with tails; it sported peaked lapels and subtle embroidery at the collar of a looping...calligraphic design...though with no real linguistic meaning. If he could venture a guess to the style, it would fall somewhere between sovereign and victorian regency with just the hint of a gothic edge. Noir in color, the fabric appeared to be vicuña in make...somewhat velvety in appearance and clearly soft. Angeal wanted to run his fingers over it, not because of the expense or luxuriousness of the fabric; but because of the individual wearing it. His groom-to-be had left his hair down and someone had bothered to style it. Privately, the younger man wondered who exactly had managed to fight the gunslinger into a chair in order to arrange it for him but he decided he would ask later. As it was, onyx locks tumbled over broad shoulders like a waterfall of darkest pitch...deep like midnight...so black it was nearly blue. The former General was fairly sure that someone had given the older man his boutonniere as well; the red rose peeking out from the inner corner of a winged lapel was like a drop of blood in a sable sea...much akin to those crimson eyes in shade and hue. The former Turk wore dress pants of the same color and fabric over loafers. 

Upon catching sight of him, Vincent’s expression morphed into one that he imagined was somewhat similar to his own. Appreciation...surprise... _ adoration.  _ And, really, they did have Genesis to thank for this...because he was fairly sure neither of them would have done themselves up half as well on their own. The decor was-somehow-less flagrantly ostentatious than he’d imagined the redhead would make it in his mind. There was no riotous explosion of color...no wild array of many-faceted blooms of differing fragrances. Most of it was symbolistically white; tactfully placed and carefully arranged. There were two floor candelabras burning in dark corners at either side of the altar...more towards the back than anything. It was hard, however, to concentrate on that when cerise lips curved into a smile...when the older man tilted his head and blinked at him in a way that was so singularly individual. Patient...caring...temperate and reassuring. Suddenly, it was impossible to pay attention to the butterflies cavorting about his stomach, not when the individual before him was exuding so much love just from a single look. 

**Angeal**

| 

**Vincent**  
  
---|---  
  
To him, it seemed that time had reached some sort of standstill.

Oh, how he wanted them to walk down the aisle together, holding hands and never breaking his eyes from the crimson gaze that was locked with his. It was impossible to hold back the smile that tugged on the corners of his mouth, harder still to keep from uttering how much he loved the older man and so much more, because surely his heart felt like it wanted to escape from his chest and go reside next to his lover’s. So when those dark dark lashes dusted high cheekbones, slowly revealing the ruby of Vincent’s eyes, Angeal realized he couldn’t wait any longer.

The dark-haired First walked backwards, the acoustic of his soles against the planks negligible as he did so, sapphire never leaving the sight of the individual before him until where he stood mirrored that of his partner. And from then on, out of some unspoken and synchronized agreement, they stepped forward together, among stained-glass windows and fortified pillars of stone. The play of golden rays against the ebony of his lover’s hair and the way they threw his beautiful visage into sharp relief was so mesmerizing Angeal couldn’t take his eyes off of the older man. 

And it wasn’t just that, no. 

Because with every step forward, they were getting one step closer...closer to a life together, even though they had been with each other already. And if Genesis and _Zack_-if he was still around-wanted to call him old-fashioned, then let them. To him, and to the man walking on the other side of the church, this was something tangible, the love they shared brought forth into the corporeal realm. The former General wouldn’t have minded it if his partner had said no and they’d continued as they’d been, but when he’d said yes...when he’d worn that ring, Angeal Hewley had felt like the luckiest man on Gaia. Because there was simply nothing else he could want except to live every single day of their lives together. And they were already bound to each other, but they both wanted this…as though this would set the amount of affection they had for each other into stone, give voice to it once more with words, written and spoken.

The last step on chiseled stone, and they both rounded the last column and the pews together, finally face to face...finally about to converge...about to be so near that Angeal could hear the older man’s breathing, the faint yet strong beat of his heart; close enough to touch, to hold those slender-fingered yet lethally strong hands as they’d both voice their vows. 

The former General knew there were other people there: his childhood friend, his longtime silver-haired comrade, the Director of the faction he’d served and shaped to the best of his abilities, the President of the Company he’d helped reshape, his groom-to-be’s colleague; and finally the girl who shared the same passions with him, who was strong and yet fragile with a burden she shouldn’t have to bear and yet had born it so gracefully...the girl who could’ve stood there with a dark-haired, spikey-haired First Class with bluest eyes and a jovial grin on his lips. Also, his mother could’ve been there, so could’ve Vincent’s father… But it had been Vincent who had once told him that they were still there with them, in their hearts, and that was why he was content. Because Vincent always knew what to say to make him feel better, always knew him and his heart better than he himself did, and as such he had eyes only for the ebon-haired ex-Turk who was approaching him.

Forward, forward, and his breath caught in his throat, his heart missed a beat, because finally they were there. Here and now, standing by the altar, it felt like they were on the cusp of a new, different world; and in more ways than one, it was so entirely true. Without, the world was new...and after all the hardships they had faced together, after every hurdle their relationship had survived, they were surely different men from when they’d first met. But despite all this, their love had only become stronger...like a stream making its way even through the toughest of stones, making a path...ever forward, and it was all because of the ebon-haired individual who had made him look forward even when the world had seemed like such a dark, bleak, and wholly unfamiliar place.

“Dearly Beloved....”

Veld’s voice nearly made him jump-so concentrated his focus had been-unwavering and strong in the quiet of the church.

“We are gathered here today to join these two men, Angeal Hewley and Vincent Valentine, in matrimony. We will now bear witness to their vows, recited to one another, in honor of their union. You may now join hands.”

Familiar fingers found his and Angeal followed the ruby gaze to their joint hands, gave them a slight squeeze in a manner that was grounding, that kept him anchored to where they both were to hear his partner’s vows. 

Sapphire met crimson, and Vincent began… Hearing those words of gratitude, the former General wanted to forgo his own vows in order to let his companion know that it was, in fact, he who was grateful; that it was the gunslinger’s presence beside him that had pushed him forward...but instead of his words, he let the adoration, the affection he felt for the older man show on his face; in the way tears almost welled up in his eyes, but by some miraculous strength he held them at bay.

Even more miraculous was that he remembered what he wanted to say in the face of all that love, that his voice didn’t tremble with how his heart was quaving within his chest.

“From the moment I met you, you were there to push me forward,” Angeal began. “Reminded me that it’s good to take my own advice, and later you came to stand beside me for me to lean on, to fall back on whenever the world became too hard of a place to bear.” A pause. “I didn’t know when I met you that by letting you into my world, you’d become it...and I’m grateful for that… Grateful for every breath, every moment, every hour of your life you chose to spend and share with me.” And if his cheeks were getting dusted by the faintest shade of cerise, he couldn’t focus on that. “You are my life, you are my world, you are and will be the only one I love, the only one who holds my heart now and forever.” Tightening his hand around his partner gently, he added. “I will love you for a thousand years.”

Seeing those beautiful brilliant eyes well up with crystallinity, Angeal almost wanted to apologize, wanted to do anything in his power not to have them spill over; and if they did, to soothe and comfort, to reassure, to ground...to give all in his might, all that he could.

As it was, with Veld questions ringing out between them, the dark-haired First wanted to cradle his partner’s hand with both of his, but Vincent raised them to press them against the side of an alabaster cheek. And then, those sanguine lips formed around a sincere and certain _‘I do’._

“And do you, Angeal Hewley, take Vincent Valentine to be your lawfully wedded husband? To live together forever in the estate of matrimony? Will you love, comfort, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse for as long as you both shall live?”

Slowly, without breaking their locked gazes, the former General drew their joint hands toward him, between the two of them, to cradle his lover’s pale fingers with both of his, to place a big palm against the back of his lovers and tighten his hold minutely.

“I do.” and there was nothing in his life that he was more sure about.

Beside them Veld exchanged glances with the silver-haired First and his redheaded partner. It was Sephiroth then, who stepped forward first, a small sable satin cushion proffered which housed the same silver circlet he’d proposed to his lover with. Angeal took it, raised the hand he’d cradled earlier; and again their point of contact was trembling with the amount of emotion they were both feeling at the moment.

“With this ring I wed you, as a reminder of the promises we exchanged today...and a sign of my love for you.”

Guiding the ring along the ivory finger extended, the tips of his digits ran along the phalangeal joint and he had to push the desire to bestow a kiss upon it for a later time to let his lover mirror the same. Because his redheaded childhood friend stood next to the gunslinger, bearing the same cushion and a similar ring on top of it. And it was almost for the first time that he’d noticed the joy on Genesis’ visage and his smugness at how everything was proceeding quite possibly to the way he’d planned.

_“With this ring…” _

The fingers that held Cerberus were now sliding a silver ring that was just as significant as his onto his digit, and Angeal couldn’t help but acknowledge how right it felt there; the weight of it-and he’d never worn anything on his person in terms of jewelry-the coolness of it and how it was slowly warming up; he couldn’t help but notice how it settled there...secure, firm...and how true Vincent’s words had been about it being a representation of his place inside the older man’s heart.

And finally: “...I now pronounce you wed…”

Angeal had but a split second to muse how much he’d been looking forward to this kiss before those warm lips closed around his. A small part of him shivered because never before had they kissed in front of an audience, and certainly not his employers; but he decided to toss that to the wind because despite how private it was, he couldn’t be any more proud of sharing this tangible moment, as a married couple, with those around them. True, it was physical, but more than that was the level of deep emotion it conveyed, that it had always conveyed between the two of them… And still it would...every day of their lives from this day onwards…

And Sephiroth couldn’t choose a better moment to butt in: Angeal had just been about to let the hand, which had dove in the waterfall of starless night, descend to the small of the older man’s back; the nuance of their kiss had just been about to deepen, and the silver-haired General had to be, quite veritably, the youngest of their quartet. His bravado might have held out longer, but the click of a shutter gave him pause, and he had to break away with a deep blush on his face and his _husband_ in his embrace.

The cameraman was, as it turned out, his redheaded childhood friend, who was standing in the middle of the aisle, taking yet another photo of their moment with one of those old-fashioned, instant cameras.

Too surprised to come up with anything, especially considering how the entirety of their small venue had stood up and was giving them a brief applause, except for his two brainless comrades, Angeal stood there kind of stupidly, even as the smirking redhead opened his mouth. 

“Oh, quit it you two, the entirety of HQ is waiting for you at the reception.” Pale digits flicked the photo to and fro in the air as Genesis added. “Also, this remains safe with me as a reward for my galiant efforts at organizing this whole thing.”

The concept of being his silver-haired friend’s stepfather was odd…because honestly, no matter how hard he might want to try to see himself in that light, he couldn’t; the younger First had always been his comrade, and at most, Angeal could be his older brother. But that aside, along with how he and Vincent couldn’t seem to have enough of being near and even nearer to each other, the dark-haired soldier fathom how they were going to face the entirety of HQ at some reception. There was also the cost of a gathering of such proportions, which must have been astronomically high. The dark-haired Banoran was entirely sure that neither he nor his partner wanted to engage in any sort of performing arts consisting of rhythmical movements, partaking exorbitant amounts of drinks, and gustatorial delicacies. Sure, there was the matter of cake, but they could always either forgo that or have it at their own apartment. Despite his gratefulness for all the troubles Genesis might have gone through for everything so far and setting the reception up, another thing Angeal couldn’t fathom was how his redheaded friend could’ve overlooked such things...because the childhood playmate, of all people, must have known that neither he nor Vincent were the kind of people who enjoyed fanfare.

While he was busy losing his head more or less, the expression on the former Commander’s face was unraveling. 

“Rhapsodos is joking of course.” It was Reeve’s comment that brought him out of his ruminations to see the new head of the company chuckling before giving him a friendly pat. “Though, I’m sure those who might know send their congratulations.”

Lazard who had been quiet during the whole procession fixed his glasses on the bridge of his nose before regarding him and the red-eyed ex-Turk with a small yet sincere smile. “Hewley, Mr. Valentine, congratulations.” From behind silver-rimmed glasses, blue eyes flitted to Veld who was probably about to congratulate them as well. 

It had been really easy to laugh when their officiant had tried to get his partner to return to his previous profession in the same breath he’d used to congratulate them. And Angeal found that he couldn’t stop the mirth that seemed to bubble up from somewhere deep within him; the happiness that burst forth in the shape of a smile that never wanted to leave his face. Together, Angeal and Vincent made their way down the aisle, hand-in-hand, speaking here and there with the few others who had attended.

As they grew closer to the door, past the last of the pews, the former General wondered humorously and gratefully that they didn’t have a bouquet to throw. The gentle curve of his lips turned into a full-fledged laughing smile as he gazed at the ebon-haired individual beside him. 

It seemed that Aerith had decided to be the last one to congratulate them even though she’d been sitting in the front row. Angeal could understand her reluctance; after all, since the last time his lover had conversed with the brunette so much had changed. He had never explained to the last of the Cetras why, after their trip to Banora, the crimson-eyed ex-Turk never accompanied the former General for his visits anymore. Tightening their clasped hands in what he hoped was a reassuring manner for his companion, the dark-haired First uttered his gratuity first.

“Thank you, Aerith... For your hospitality, and for being here today.” A gravid pause. “It means a lot to me.”

And if there was a sliver of something doleful in those green irises, neither of them decided to comment on it as she smiled at both of them. “It’s nothing compared to what you’ve given me...us, the entire lower plate. I hope you both live happily and prosper.” Opening her mouth to add something, she quickly closed it, her eyes flicked to Vincent for an infinitesimal moment but a moment nonetheless, in which Angeal nodded his thanks. Not letting go of the fingers intertwined with his, he reached forward to pull her in a loose embrace and to place a kiss upon the brown tresses that caught the light flitting through stained glass windows. 

As he stepped away somewhat, Angeal couldn’t help but acknowledge that Aerith seemed like she hadn’t expected his partner’s quiet yet kind words, judging by the amazement on her youthful features. It kindled a desire within him to somehow show his appreciation for the older man, but the means to do that escaped him. Instead, the younger groom settled for an affectionate smile that was wrought from deep within his chest; and he couldn’t help but agree more that the two of them wanted the best for the brown-haired individual standing in front of the two of them.

A nod of a brunette head in Vincent’s direction, and the last of the Cetras thanked them and offered them the same sentiment before, somewhat timidly, making her way to the luminescent patch of green, white, and yellow in the middle of her church. 

Following the path his comrades had taken toward the entrance of the church, the former General hesitated a moment longer, turning his head to look back. Aerith was sitting there, just shy of her small garden, illuminated by a brilliance that had nothing to do with the golden rays of the Sol... And if it was a hallucination or some vision-something his mind had conjured or the Planet-Angeal wasn’t sure; but there, standing on wooden planks, just beyond the shimmering light of holy, was Gillian, and Zack as well…all three of them smiling.

And there were so many things he wanted to say, but somehow he knew it was already understood, in the slight bow of a grey-streaked head and the recognition in three pairs of familiar irises. He didn’t want to turn his back now, didn’t want to leave… But something in him relented at the same time that he was holding on; trying not to give in to the moisture blurring his vision by some miraculous thread of self-control. 

He did turn around, then, tightened his hold around Vincent’s digits and curled those of his other hand around the handle; Angeal pushed it forward almost at the same time his lover did by his side.

|   
---  
  
Standing at the altar, Vincent felt like he’d entered a different world.

He was aware of those around them, but it was a distant...fuzzy cognizance. Like acknowledging something behind a film of wax paper. Every part of him seemed hyper focused on Angeal...on the curve of his lips...on the soft but powerful tenor of his presence in the room. And he’d never felt _giddy _before, because it was such a frivolous emotion...but he felt giddy now.  


Watching the younger man retreat...watching him keep his eyes on him at all times gave him a sense of importance and relevance like no other. He was-painfully-aware of how lovestruck he must look, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.  


And when the former General took that first step forward he did so as well; automatically...like it was a pull before him that he couldn’t resist. Forward...and each step seemed to whisper of the hardships they had faced...the toils they had endured only to end up here...together. It was during times like this that he felt so indescribably fortunate that it nearly brought him to tears.  


He thought it fitting that they hadn’t chosen any music...because it was in their silence that they were the most whole. Any sort of melody would have taken away from what they were...what they wanted to be and what they had been before. And those eyes...those beautiful blue eyes were like pools into the soul of the man before him. He had fallen in love with those eyes first because they were so incongruently honest...so forward-facing and positive. Those eyes had given him hope when he thought there was none...had shown him love when he thought he was undeserving of love.

Straightlaced and lapeled...silk fabric and refined air...all courtesies of those who had put so much effort into making this something singularly valuable. Yet the only thing he could concentrate on was the straight line of that proud jaw...the careful, contemplative weight behind those steps that seemed to carry the world wherever they went...and maybe they did. But Angeal had become _his _world, and when he’d asked there was no possible way he was going to say no. Who would say no to someone who had shown them such devotion? Who had unerringly put them to the forefront and sacrificed that which others might consider valuable in order to be with him?

They met in the middle...somewhere between the past and the future. The gravidity of it didn’t escape him; the fact that he was so much a facet of what could have been prevented...of what could have been saved. And the individual before him was he who _had _saved, who had put aside his own needs in order to give himself to the people...to his friends...to him. If he thought on it too long he knew he’d think he didn’t deserve this...and so he didn’t. Glancing up at the altar, he felt a soft shiver of fatherly amusement at his son’s stiff, serious, and extremely intense fortitude. If it hadn’t been for Angeal, none of them would have been here. He wouldn’t have been able to see him there...wouldn’t have been able to have somewhat considered himself part of a family. He was equally grateful for the cheerful, somewhat cat-that-ate-the-canary look on Genesis’ face...the expression that said he knew he’d done quite well for them and was equally happy for his wedding-planneresque prowess as he was for their union. ...And Veld was there to oversee it all. He was somewhat surprised he’d consented, even more surprised when he’d gone through the process of getting a notary’s license just so that he could marry the two of them.  


And they were so _lucky _to have gotten this far...to be granted this great privilege despite everything. Because there were so many others that hadn’t gotten such opportunities, that had never gotten the chance to see the culmination of their affections bloom into something beautiful. A broken sigh...like a watercolor painting slurred and made to run down into the corners of the frame; the colors coalescing but never muddying themselves as they were brought together in a swirl of tenderness, sincerity, respect, and understanding. A half-turn and they were standing face to face...close enough to reach out and touch...almost close enough to kiss.  


“Dearly Beloved....”

Veld’s voice echoed about the enclosed space...quiet but powerful.

“We are gathered here today to join these two men, Angeal Hewley and Vincent Valentine, in matrimony. We will now bear witness to their vows, recited to one another, in honor of their union. You may now join hands.”

It took Vincent a moment to gather himself enough to speak. When he did, his voice wavered but once, but his tone was clear and steadfast. Taking familiar fingers in his own, the gunslinger took a moment to gaze down at them...at their clasped palms before looking upwards into brilliantly blue irises.

“Because of you,” He began. “I laugh. I smile, and I dare to look to the future more than I ever have. Thank you for giving me the miracle of you. Thank you for giving me your love. You are and always will be the love of my life, the keeper of my heart, and the other half of my soul.” A deep breath. “I will forever cherish you, forever value you...and I will _forever _see you as the bright, brilliant, and endlessly generous individual you are.”  


_“You were there to push me forward...you are my life...you are and will be the only one I love.”  
_

There was a part of him that wanted to protest, because surely that was a long time to love someone. At the same time, Vincent knew that there was no way he could doubt the sincerity behind his lover’s words. It made him all the more determined to make sure that the coming years they spent together were tangible, that they lived their lives to the fullest. And if his eyes became somewhat slurry during the younger man’s speech, he fought them down in favor of listening to Angeal’s vows.  


Their joined hands trembled somewhat with the weight of the emotion passed between them, though not anything in terms of fear...but in the monumental depth of their shared affections. A small, private part of him insisted that maybe this was too public, but at the same time he knew that he wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world. He was-unutterably-_proud _of his love for his partner. There was nothing in him that recoiled in the sense of shame or fear of retribution. He’d spent too long in the past brooding over his affections and doing nothing about them. This wasn’t only something in terms of a bond...it was an expression...a sincere expression.

After a moment, Veld spoke again.

“Do you, Vincent Valentine, take Angeal Hewley to be your lawfully wedded husband? To live together forever in the estate of matrimony? Will you love, comfort, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse for as long as you both shall live?”

Raising their joined hands to cradle them against his cheek, the former Turk opened his mouth.  


“I do.”  


“And do you, Angeal Hewley, take Vincent Valentine to be your lawfully wedded husband? To live together forever in the estate of matrimony? Will you love, comfort, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse for as long as you both shall live?”

_“I do.”  
_

Sephiroth stepped forward with the ring and he watched with a kind of quiet fondness as his son handed it over to his husband. His mind wanted to burst into a long-winded montage regarding how far they’d come all over again but he refrained in favor of allowing the younger man to take his hand and slide the ring onto his finger.  


_“With this ring…”  
_

And again, that feeling of _rightness _was just as strong...just as prominent. Unconsciously, the gunslinger smiled...looking at the silver loop on his hand with a bit of a soppy expression before Veld cleared his throat. Blushing somewhat, Vincent observed as Genesis stepped forward this time...and the jewelry the former Commander proffered was just as simple and just as beautiful as the one currently sitting on his hand. Echoing his lover’s gesture, Vincent lifted the dark-haired First’s palm and opened his mouth.

“With this ring I wed you, as a token of my undying affection...as a physical representation of the place you have in my heart.”

It fit perfectly, though how exactly Genesis had managed that was unclear. It slid across the younger man’s finger to rest below the lowermost joint. Like a puzzle piece fit into place...like how their relationship seemed to make up two halves of a whole.  


“What these vows have joined together, let no one tear asunder.” Veld intoned solemnly. “With the power vested in me by the city of Midgar, I now pronounce you wed. You may kiss.”

And oh what a kiss.

With their hands still clasped together, Vincent leaned forward and tilted his head just-slightly upwards to receive Angeal’s mouth. And they had kissed before, but they had never kissed before as a married couple. It was powerful...pragmatic and deeply connective. Once they’d started he didn’t want to stop...wanted to crawl into the sensation and revel in it forever. His husband seemed to be of similar mind, and when a large hand rose to cup his cheek he didn’t protest...merely shivered and fitted himself closer. And this, _this..._they were together in a sense that he never thought he would have anyone, never thought he would have the privilege of sharing with anyone. It made him a little bit dizzy, though that also could have been the lack of oxygen.  


Sephiroth harrumphed loudly.  


Vincent supposed he ought to be upset about it, and he supposed he ought to have been more upset when Genesis raised the camera to take a picture of them...but he couldn’t force himself to be. He was too _happy _about it to really care. And yes, he might have flushed a bit, but the moment quickly passed. When the younger man pulled away he allowed it, stood back and raised a sardonic eyebrow at Genesis, who winked.  


“You know…” Vincent said to Sephiroth in a blithe tone. “Angeal is now your stepfather.”  


Sephiroth blanched.

“Legally.” was the hasty deadpan response.

Relenting somewhat, Vincent smiled and turned back to Angeal. The former General raised an eyebrow and lifted his arm. Chuckling quietly, the ebon-haired gunslinger took it, tugging the blue-eyed First just-so in a playful gesture before looping his own through and over. Then...Genesis’ comment proceeded to register fully in his brain.  


_“The entirety of HQ is waiting for you at the reception.”  
_

“The entirety of HQ?” He half-whispered.

To his left, Sephiroth shot him an entirely commiserating look. He couldn’t bring himself to respond to it. His husband’s free hand crossed over a broad chest to squeeze his arm gently. Taking a deep breath, Vincent recentered his focus. Realistically, it was understandable. The younger man had many, many people who adored and looked up to him, it was only fair that they would want to see him happily wed. And wasn’t it time that he let go of such insecurities? He might not like the social aspect of it, but people had bothered to come out and see them because they were _happy _for them. There wasn’t any insidious purpose behind genuine appreciation. He couldn’t be suspicious of that.

Feasibly, Genesis had gone to the trouble of setting up the reception. It was kind and considerate of him, and the redhead didn’t have to do it at all. They’d been lucky to have a friend who was so willing to offer his services in terms of their wedding without asking for any sort of payment or charge. And maybe the redhead had enjoyed it as well, but it was still a great amount of work and care put into something that had required no such effort.

Reeve’s quiet declaration of Genesis’ joke, however, nearly made him collapse with relief. His dark-haired companion was looking similarly relieved and they shared a look of sincere gratitude.  


“I’m very happy for both of you.” Veld said fondly. “Though, I have to ask, would you conside-”

“-No,” Vincent interrupted blandly. “Your notary skills are commendable, but I still don’t want you as my boss.”

Angeal laughed.

Together, the two of them stepped forward to walk down the middle aisle, stopping every so often to speak to those who had attended. They had packed their bags for their honeymoon beforehand, but Vincent was fairly sure Genesis might have planned something small for the four of them prior to their departure.

He didn’t mind really. It was much simpler than greeting the entirety of HQ. And a tiny, sentimental part of him would miss the two of them while they were gone. He was-undoubtedly-ecstatic at the idea of a lengthy time away from the responsibility of their respective careers. It would be nice for them to spend an extended stretch of chronological space doing absolutely nothing. Eyeing his exceptionally dashing lover, Vincent amended his statement; maybe not _nothing, _but certainly nothing work-related.

Approaching Aerith, the older man warred with his emotions. It was-veritably-an internal battle seething inside of him. It was hard to put his misgivings and resentments aside, but he _wanted _to for the sake of his partner. Angeal didn’t deserve to have any sort of dissent on their wedding day, neither of them did.  


He listened idly while his partner communicated his thanks. Kept his eyes on the trickle of guests leaving the venue instead of focusing forward. Realistically, Aerith wasn’t to blame for Gaia’s decisions. It wasn’t her fault, he didn’t have anything to be upset about. By _being _upset he was lowering himself to Sephiroth’s level. He’d caught the silver-haired man throw Aerith at least one truly filthy look. He was ashamed to say that he hadn’t reprimanded him for it, but it was when they were walking in, before Angeal had gotten there and he didn’t want to potentially upset Genesis by telling off his son and cause a scene, so he’d refrained.  


Her thankfulness was justified, and his guilt only increased with it. Aerith was willing to see past such misgivings she might have about any one of them, despite the fact that she didn’t have to. She was in the same room with the individual who had mercilessly slaughtered the love of her life...and smiling. He didn’t think he’d be able to do that. Angeal stepped away and he cleared his throat.  


“Thank you.” He said quietly, inclining his head. Aerith lifted her head and looked at him, seemingly surprised. “For being there for Angeal, and for coming.”  


There was a rustle of fabric behind him and he watched as Sephiroth glided by, not sparing any of them a glance...his posture stiff. Genesis followed closely behind but his demeanor was far more casual. Vincent was nearly tempted to trounce the General in interim but he refrained, turning instead to his newlywed partner.

“I think I can speak for both of us in saying we wish you only the best.”  


He stepped forward with his partner, but stopped when Angeal hesitated, waiting patiently while the older man looked back; presumably to look back for a moment at Aerith. Somewhat numbly, he acknowledged he could never conscience the Goddess, no matter what. He hoped, sincerely, that whatever his misgivings...he was wrong. And if he wasn’t, he hoped that there was an alternative to her benevolence.  


Angeal was taking quite a while.

Somewhat curiously, he turned back...and immediately wished he hadn’t. As it was, he merely froze. Because standing next to the sea of flowers...somewhat translucent but entirely there...was Lucrecia. Ethereal and formless...something wrought in crystalline effervescence but borne from nothing at all. And the emotion that rose up within him wasn’t that of grief, nor was it of love. Eyes that were so much like Sephiroth’s in shape crinkled slightly at the edges as she smiled, irises flickering to Angeal before her head dipped in an accepting kind of nod. An existential...staggering kind of weight was lifted off of him at that moment. Like he’d had a millstone slung across his shoulders and hadn’t known it until it was taken away. Lucrecia didn’t linger...and he sensed that there would be very little point in her doing so. Vincent turned back before Angeal, exhaling as he did so. And the older man wanted to say something...wanted to reassure himself...but there was no reassurance...merely acceptance.  


So when his husband regained himself and they opened the door together, he said nothing...because there was nothing to say.  
  
On the other side, the car with their employers was just pulling up onto the street, while next to the other black vehicle, Genesis was loitering near the open door on the driver side. The silver-haired General, who seemed to have been waiting for them as well, opened the door to the back for them before twisting the metal aperture on the passenger side at the front. 

For some reason, it was the first time that he was actively acknowledging his comrades’ formal attire: black coats with only the middle button done over pressed white shirts, complete with sleek noir ties. The simple outfits were a direct replica of Turks’ uniforms; however, nearing the duo, he could pick up the subtle dark green undertones to the noir of Sephiroth’s suit and the fine-drawn indigo of Genesis’ outfit. 

Ushering his crimson-gazed partner in the car before himself and suppressing the urge to kiss those ivory knuckles for the time being, his comrades took their seats as he did, and soon they were on their way back to HQ.

The scenery of the lower plate zipped by and gave way to the highways leading them to the upper part of the city. The quiescence that had fallen over them was something easy and comfortable, so different from when he’d made his lonely trek before the wedding, now with Vincent’s digits intertwined with his and his presence at his side. Once, when he broke his gaze away from their joint hands with a smile curving his lips subconsciously, Angeal caught Genesis watching the silver-haired man with the same expression of all those years ago: the same way he observed the younger man when he thought no one was watching. It tugged at his heartstrings thinking about how so many things could have gone differently; how none of this could have happened due to small details they might have easily overlooked at the time, negligible things really, and yet, here they were. Somehow, that gave what they had now a value so paramount it was priceless in its tangibility, and while the Angeal of yesteryears might have thanked Goddess for it, he had no one to thank but themselves. A small facet of him, though, knew that he had to thank the deity who had cured him as well as cursed him, too; because if she hadn’t healed him that day, despite all it had entailed, the former General didn’t know where they would be at the moment…

It was hard to keep himself from sighing. While he knew his partner was very receptive to his gestures, the dark-haired First couldn’t help but acknowledge that with the breath that escaped him, it seemed all those thoughts left the forefront of his mind as well. That was why it’d been worth it because now he could raise his head to gaze at those ruby irises with untroubled, immeasurable happiness.

Vincent did look tired, but it was a happy tired. And he understood. Social gatherings, especially one of such value and worth, could be somewhat exhausting to those that weren’t used to spending extended time in the ‘public’ eye. And it had been a small affair, but that didn’t make it any less monumental. The hand entwined with his squeezed affectionately before the older man drew their joined palms into his lap. They had left the Lower Plate and were mostly inbound for HQ at this point. It was strange to see how much the city had changed. There were splashes of green here and there that hadn’t been before...and many of the factories producing large amounts of pollution had been taken down. It was also somewhat strange to pull up to HQ and acknowledge the drastic minimalism of the guard at the gate. Shinra still required some type of protocol in terms of patrol but it was far more casual than it used to be. They made it through the front gate but pulled around instead to the back. Despite the fact that their marriage had likely been announced in the papers there was no need to make a display of it by walking through the lobby in their dress clothes. Sephiroth was the first to get out of the car, though he turned back once he was fully upright and stuck his head in the window.

“I need to ask Cissnei to clear the corridors we’ll be taking.” He said by way of explanation. When Vincent opened his mouth-probably to say it wasn’t necessary-the silver haired First raised an eyebrow. “You may not mind the lack of anonymity, but I’d rather avoid it.” 

Glancing over at his husband, Angeal didn’t miss the look of sincere relief that crossed the gunslinger’s features. Sephiroth was-by proxy-giving them as much privacy as possible, while making it seem like it was for his own benefit when really, it was for his father’s. It would keep them from having to answer a mountain of questions, and it would allow them to get to the honeymoon part of their wedding sooner. They’d seen the people they wanted to see at the service, and anything else could wait until later. The General disappeared and Vincent ran an idle hand through his hair. 

“Genesis…” The older man commented. “I hope you didn’t go to the trouble of cooking anything, you’ve already done so much for us.” 

A smile was proffered toward the general direction of the backseat before the redhead averted his gaze to the front as they slowly made it down the ramp that led them to the lower parking levels. “No. No cooking, especially considering that I’d need gourmet cooking skills for the occasion, and unfortunately or luckily, that’s not my forte.”

Angeal huffed a brief laugh as their vehicle came to a stop in a VIP designated lot. Briefly, the younger Banoran acknowledged that it was strange to see most of the parking space, which had been previously filled with luxury cars, occupied with patrolling four wheel drives, Turk motorcycles, and otherwise nothing.

“Well, my chauffeuring occupation ends here-” There was a miniscule beep of a message, and Genesis fished out his phone out of his pants pocket. “That was Sephiroth’s allclear, we can head out now.”

Each opening the door to their respective sides and getting out of the car, their trio made their way to the elevators that otherwise would have been guarded by a couple of infantrymen. Genesis swiped a keycard, and Angeal couldn’t help but notice that it was his; that made him arc an incredulous eyebrow which in turn earned him a cheeky grin as they waited for the lift to reach their level before stepping in.

This exercise in anonymity-as Sephiroth had put it-somewhat humorously felt like some stealth mission they all were on; what with ‘taking care’ of the guards and clearing corridors of potential bystanders. But regardless, the relief he’d seen on Vincent’s face when the gunman’s son had left them to check with the young Turk had been worth all the trouble.

A shrill ding heralded them reaching the Residential, all corridors empty now. However, with their long strides taking them closer and closer to their apartment, it needn’t to stay so for long. Rounding a corner of sleek walls, they found the General in interim awaiting them by the door of their living quarters. It was then that the redheaded former Commander held out his keycard between ivory digits for him to take as they drew near. “After the bride and groom.”

Vincent seemed to hesitate at the mention of ‘bride’ but acquiesced nevertheless with a ‘thank you’. Crossing the threshold, the older man hesitated but a moment before turning back to grasp Angeal’s hand and lead him through after him. Sephiroth had-unsurprisingly-been busy while they made their way up. There was a cake on the kitchen table, along with several round silver trays filled with assorted foods along the lines of what appeared to be a crostini station. There was also a small, gift-wrapped present that was quite flat, and Angeal desperately hoped that his childhood friend and his childhood friend’s lover hadn’t thought to get them money. They had plenty of it already, and the sheer amount that it would have to be to be considered a ‘generous gift’ made him slightly weak in the knees. It was a bit strange to acknowledge that the youngest of their quartet could organize a rather coordinate lunch spread, but considering his rigid system of institution with everything else, he supposed that it wasn’t all that surprising. The man in question was pulling plates down from a kitchen shelf with solemn focus but he nodded at them upon their entry, green eyes softening when they landed on Genesis.

Squeezing his hand momentarily once more, the gunslinger relinquished his grip before moving away to greet Chaos. The animal in question meowed somewhat loudly-presumably indignant at being left alone all day-before Vincent scooped him up and started scratching him behind the ears. This lasted maybe a moment before the cat was put down again and the former Turk returned to grace Angeal with a kiss. Pulling away, the older man made a study of his face before opening his mouth.

“Do you want to change now or after we eat?” Crimson eyes narrowed somewhat as a thought seemed to occur behind them. Turning to look warily at Genesis, the ebon-haired man continued. “...Or are we taking pictures?” 

Angeal couldn’t help but shake his head as he saw the laughing smile unravel the seam of his childhood friend’s lips. It was decided then, even before the redhead could open his mouth to utter:

“Well of course photos. And don’t you dare change before you’ve cut the cake and had a piece at least.” 

And of course they had to oblige, not out of the fear of getting Firaga’ed out of their own apartment, but rather because while they hadn’t initially thought of recording their day, the redhead had thought ahead. The former General couldn’t help but be thankful...really to both of his friends, and also the man by his side because none of this would have happened without him.

With plates put on the tabletop, the silver-haired First proffered a knife, handle first, which Angeal took, nodding his thanks before gazing at his newlywed partner. Holding onto it together, with his right hand covering those long ivory digits, he decided to ignore the click of the shutter and instead make a steady cut...and then another, a third one, and both of them now had a piece which they plated. When it became obvious that they didn’t intend on feeding each other cake, Genesis put his camera and the surprising stack of photos he’d pocketed aside before joining them yet again. 

With his fork hovering above the confectionery, the dark-haired First spoke. “Thank you. Both of you...I can’t say how grateful I am, because neither of you had to go through all this trouble, and yet you did. I can safely say, from both of us, that having you there and still here with us makes both me and Vincent really truly happy.”

There was a huff of laughter from the scarlet-haired individual before he answered. “You’re teethrottingly sweet ‘Geal and I’m not sure how Vincent could’ve condemned himself to an eternity of you...but you’re welcome.” The joking undertone lacing his best friend’s voice and then the sincere remark made it easy to overlook the negative aspect of what that word might have otherwise entailed. Genesis continued, cerulean irises turning to regard Vincent. “And I didn’t really reply to you then, but really it wasn’t ‘all that trouble’ at all...it was nothing, though I think Sephiroth might disagree with me.” A hand looped around the small of the aforementioned’s back. “I don’t know how anyone could be happy in matrimony, not miserable and regretting it after a while depending,” Another humorous remark, followed by a more heartfelt one. “but I’m genuinely happy for both of you.”

Vincent echoed Angeal’s thanks before putting down his plate and looking at Sephiroth.

“I never thanked you.” He said quietly. Green eyes narrowed somewhat as the General in interim tilted his head in question. “For this.” He gestured at all of them. “You didn’t have to let me back into your life, but you did. You have no idea-or maybe you do-what that means. And you  _ certainly  _ didn’t have to support his...support me finding love...getting married after…” He trailed off and shrugged. “I don’t regret it, at all.” He emphasized firmly. “But the fact that you’d share it, that takes immense strength. So thank you.” 

“I think all of us have made decisions and sacrifices we didn’t necessarily have to in order to get here.” was the low, baritone response. “With that in mind, I suppose we’re all somewhat indebted to each other, in a figurative sense. But thank you to you as well. And congratulations.” The silver-haired First hesitated before looking at Angeal as well before continuing. “You’re perfect for each other, truly.” 

Considering that it was Sephiroth speaking, it was practically a eulogy. And the former General didn’t miss the manner in which his husband ducked his head; the way the tip of an ear poking out from underneath a sea of onyx flushed lightly. The eldest of them busied himself with his cake in a rather adorable display of awkward gratitude while Sephiroth managed to look quite comparably awkward as he hastily turned to the crostini session and began to eat one with a kind of single-minded fervor.

Trying to alleviate the awkwardness, Angeal let a hand slide down the ebony fall of Vincent’s hair against his back in an affectionate manner; brushed along the soft fabric of his lover’s coat to the small of his back as he moved around him to reach the small gift-wrapped object on the table. Taking it up, he tried to guess as to the nature of it but didn’t find any clues whatsoever that help in figuring out the contents of the mysterious present.

“What is this?” The former General queried, sapphire eyes flitting from his partner who was slowly raising his head to regard both of his friends. 

Genesis, who had been busy cutting through his cake with his fork, paused midway, locked gazes with Sephiroth before opening his mouth to simply inform them that  _ ‘It’s just something we hoped you might like’ _ . A genuine but small smile was proffered before the redhead continued. “No use asking about the contents when you can just open it and see, don’t you think?”

Angeal couldn’t stop the urge he was accosted with: to want to return it because he’d never wanted the redhead to give him anything; not because he didn’t appreciate the gesture, but because there was some small part of his childhood remaining there that could never accept his best friend’s attempts at giving him his toys, books...that could never take even a single Banora White from the orchards that the Rhapsodoses owned because Genesis was his friend. Their relationship had never been about being even in terms of give and take. It was enough when the former Commander had started the dojo to make his wish come true; the wish to see someone-even members of SOLDIER-teach people and most importantly kids how to fight, and for free nonetheless.

He was grateful. Truly. Utterly.

But he knew that the older man wasn’t going to take back what he had given, and neither was Sephiroth. There was also the fact that he was only one side of the receiving party, so he brought it between the two of them and untied the nondescript bow on top, after which Vincent took the wrapper off...to reveal a rectangular box. 

“It’s...You can change it if you didn’t like it.” Genesis muttered somewhat nervously before they could open it.

Incrementally up and upper, and finally… Inside, there were two tickets for Corel and brief, temporary legal documents for a residence in the city of evergreen and coal mines. 

The sable-haired First was so surprised that he lost all semblances of speech and proceeded to look with wide blue eyes at the couple who were gazing at the two of them with a quiet sort of anticipation and observance. Something flickered in azure eyes, and before Genesis could start his self-doubt and second-guessing downward spiral, Angeal pushed through his astonishment to try and form words. “Seph...Gen...You didn’t have to…” Tried to let his gratuity and good-natured surprise color his words even as he turned to regard his partner who was silent beside him, their hands holding onto their gift together still.

It was a testament to how well the two men could listen...really...despite their occasional habit of appearing somewhat disinterested in their relationship overall. Because he had never thought that anyone but he and Vincent would remember that that was where they had cemented their relationship...that it was where they’d agreed to try and continue their respective journeys as a single journey...as a couple. They’d discussed going back every once in a while. It wasn’t ethereal like Wutai, and it wasn’t sunny and beachy like Costa del Sol, but it was certainly quaint, remote, and simplistic. Catching scarlet eyes with his own, Angeal reflected that it was not a little bit like them. And they’d planned to go there initially, but the gesture only made their original intent all the more tangible. The honorable man in him immediately wanted to invite their two companions along; but Genesis was eyeing him like he knew exactly what he was going to say and that the answer would be a resounding, exasperated  _ ‘no.’  _ This was for them...the two of them...and no one else. 

“If this is about Funaraoi-” Vincent began, sounding somewhat breathless. 

“-It isn’t.” Sephiroth interrupted, his voice firm. “Both of us know that Funaraoi wasn’t a gift, though, we’re grateful for our time there regardless. You both provided us with opportunities to grow. It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t enjoyable all the time, but I don’t think we’d be here without those opportunities. This is the least we could do.” 

“But-” The gunslinger seemed to be struggling with his verbiage. “-A  _ house!  _ An entire house!” 

“That’s rather the point.” was the dry response. “You both spent a considerable amount of time and energy advocating for us-I know that wasn’t the point-” the General in interim continued hastily when his father opened his mouth. Moving to snake an arm around Genesis’ waist, a thumb stroking down his side, the youngest of them continued. “-The  _ point  _ is that you’re our friends, friends who fought for us. We both believe that counts for something.” Eyeing the slice of cake his partner was cutting, the silver-haired soldier eyed the redhead plaintively before resting his chin on his shoulder. “Are you going to eat that?” 

“ _ Thank you. _ ” Vincent said solemnly, still sounding rather stunned. 

Angeal couldn’t help but echo what his partner had uttered, equally as solemn, equally as surprised, and somewhat breathless. Because of all things he might have guessed, he could have never come up with something like this… And it was such a meaningfully priceless and grand gesture that the former General felt like he’d never be able to repay, not that it was the point...the equality in give or take...not that their companions expected them to. But somehow, some facet of him felt like, maybe, at least they should have tried harder for the two of them in the past at least...prevented more bitterness, more lost time… 

However, there was no use thinking about what was gone now. 

With a smile slowly edging its way to his lips, he looked up from the box in their hands to their friends.

Genesis was smiling as well, putting down his plate. “No, I don’t think so.” was a contemplative reply to the silver-haired General. When the redhead noticed his intention of giving the two of them a bear hug, his features rearranged themselves in an expression of mock horror. Raising both hands up to keep the dark-haired First at bay, his azure eyes flicked to the General in interim, and specifically to the bow of the younger man’s lips. “I think it’s time we take our leave and leave these two lovebirds to themselves,  _ hmm? _ ” 

Sephiroth made a sound of assent, emerald irises softening as he did so. Both men helped them with cleaning up after their meal, despite their protests. In truth, however, the dark-haired First was grateful for it because they wouldn’t have to spend so much time tidying before they had to leave. When they were done, Genesis and Sephiroth offered their congratulations again, and both Vincent and Angeal rose to see them to the door. It was quite apparent that their focus had suddenly and abruptly turned to each other, and it was also fairly apparent where they’d be heading and what they’d do if his husband’s sudden awkwardness had anything to indicate in terms of the circumstances, but he didn’t feel the need to comment on it. Watching as the door closed behind them, the former General couldn’t help but think of himself as lucky. There were few people who could say that they had such a good relationship  _ and  _ such good friends. Turning back to his lover, Angeal felt his lips curve into a smile as he observed the expression on the older man’s face.

“We still have an hour before we have to leave.” Vincent murmured, fingering his tie. “I think I’d like to undress you before we go.” 

With a breathless smile shivering in sapphire pools, which flitted between how those elegant fingers were slowly but surely untying his tie and the pale features that were so near and yet not close enough, Angeal let his partner slide the silk fabric from under the white collar of his shirt. It slipped through long digits just so he could intertwine Vincent’s fingers with his own, bringing them to settle at the nape of his own neck as they gazed into each other’s eyes, surrounded by a tangible tranquility for a moment more. It was then that, without ceremony, he almost dropped into a squat, looped a hand around his partner’s legs, and lifted him up into his arms. With a playful laughing yelp, his lover held onto his neck even as the dark-haired soldier craned it to place a kiss among the crown of ebony tresses. 

Briefly, he wondered that they could always cancel and go to their destination with a chopper instead. And with a house there in Corel, they could always have their honeymoon there, again, once they were finished having it in their own apartment here. With these thoughts, they made their way toward the bedroom where their bags were awaiting them and also a catnapping Chaos curled on their bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter left in this line of story, hope you all enjoyed reading this one! 
> 
> Stay tuned!


	26. Chapter Twenty Two: Alternate Ending

Vincent’s memories of Corel would always be fond.

Not only because he’d met his lover there, but because he’d spent a good amount of time finding answers there in terms of their goals as a couple. Before the dark-haired First had shown up and declared himself ready to try his hand at their relationship, he’d whiled away whatever free hours he had pondering over the rights and wrongs of his amorous intentions. He’d always known he _ wanted _ Angeal, of course. He just hadn’t known if his pursuits were justifiable, if he had the right to pursue anything because of his past. It was a bit frivolous to look back on such uncertainties now...but acknowledging who he was and who he had been was a nostalgic thing. Not in the sense of regret or bitterness, but in the sense of _ happiness…. _ in acknowledging that he’d grown. Vincent was not nostalgic, but he was cognizant of how much one’s choices could lead someone wrong...how they had lead _ him _wrong in the past. Now, he could look back on his decisions and at least be grateful that somehow, they’d brought him to where he was.

At first, he was under the impression there wasn’t a lot to do in Corel.

He was glad, first and foremost, that he was wrong. The area around the town had been turned into a nature preserve, courtesy of AVALANCHE’s efforts in environmentalism. They’d spent several afternoons there hiking the trails. It was good weather for it...and it was beautiful; under the tall evergreens with a sea of pine needles cushioning their steps...the smell of sap coloring the air; the atmosphere of it was a little bit otherworldly. They rarely ran into other hikers, but when they did most of them seemed to be set on their destination. Rarely did they find themselves having to stop to chat, but when they did, Vincent was content with taking a conversational backseat while his husband took the reigns. In their solidarity, they often sat somewhere off of the trail and talked...next to a stream or atop a mound of boulders. They spoke of idle things...of Angeal’s memories of his childhood and the gunslinger’s even vaguer memories of his. 

They spent a little time with Corel’s populace. Not because they were bored of each other, but because the community knew them fairly well due to Vincent’s work there and due to Angeal’s occasional visits. Much of their effort had been focused on bolstering the economy of a place that was so remote, and people did tend to remember such things. As it was, owning a home there also somewhat required them to get a lay of the land, and in doing so this required them to get to know their neighbors and the community to a certain degree. The majority of them were friendly, and those that weren’t particularly welcoming seemed more interested in privacy than outright hostility. Vincent didn’t gather any particular feelings of dislike from anyone, and he could appreciate the need for reclusivity as much as the next person. Unlike Midgar, Corel had very few children, and those that it did attended a school on the opposite side of town and they saw very little of them save for when they were walking past their cottage as they went home.

The cottage in of itself was beautiful.

They’d spent the first week holed up in it simply for the sake of making their mark on it. Nestled between towering pines and rocky boulders, it was fashioned out of what appeared to be large river stones. The result of this gave the exterior a large-pebbled...rustic appearance. Unusually, the front doors were wide...double-paned and floor-to-ceiling glass but the wood paneling across them was not unlike that which you’d find in a farmhouse or a barn. Before this was a deck of sorts...fashioned from sandstone with a firepit and chairs facing outwards into the forest. A porthole window was a little to the left of the entryway...this lead to the bathroom and they kept the light on at night if they went out so they could see it upon returning home. Most of the ground floor was a combined kitchen and living space; with the kitchen to the left of the entryway, and the living room to the right. The bedroom was in the loft, which could be accessed via a pull-down ladder. This overlooked the woods as well, and while there wasn’t much space for anything but the bed, the closet, and two opposing nightstands...it was still enough for them. The majority of the interior walls were maple with the exception of the loft; which had sturdy oak beams running across it to support the integrity of the overall structure.

That being said, they’d also spent much of the first week in bed.

Despite his age, Vincent was physically younger than his husband, and with that youth came all the proclivities of a youthful libido. What with Angeal recently recovered from degradation and his own physical stamina it was a miracle they found the time to eat. In HQ they had their respective jobs to keep them from turning into Genesis and Sephiroth. Here, they did not. Said redheaded individual of the aforementioned duo had called them at some point on their third day away. This was fine, but according to Angeal he’d had to hang up early because the older man kept telling him that he sounded ‘nicely wrecked.’ The former Turk wasn’t entirely sure when lovemaking had translated into something that sounded like it involved demolition, but with the individual who had said it in mind...it didn’t seem far off. He had-quite painfully-been privy to his son and his lover having quite extravagant sex in Funaraoi and it wasn’t like he was unused to their proclivities at this point. That being said...there was something satisfying about not being able to move for an hour after being bent over the edge of the bed. Not that there was anything violent or careless about it...they just utilized their solidarity to the best of both of their abilities.

And often.

There was also the fact that Angeal had abstained from sex for over twenty years before they’d met...if he was looking to rationalize it, that was definitely a topic of considerable importance. Other than sex, they spent quite a bit of time sitting out on the porch in front of the fire. Vincent liked looking at the stars in Corel. They were so bright...so vast and so beautiful. Situated under so many white pinpoints of astral brilliance, he couldn’t help but feel humbled by his lot. In the city it was easy to forget the simple things under the hustle and bustle of the life of the metropolis. And he valued his life at HQ, but he was equally grateful for his time there.

Lazard tried to contact them several times.

Specifically, he tried to contact Angeal. Vincent couldn’t understand how the director of SOLDIER had managed to become the director if he was constantly looking to his subordinates for help. His husband had endured the shrill ringtone of his cellular device for about an hour before he shut it off and tucked it under a pillow where it remained for the rest of the week. By the time the younger man turned it back on Lazard had stopped calling. Sitting on the deck watching as his lover built up the fire, Vincent couldn’t help but feel a quiet tremor of affection run through him. He was incredibly grateful for the house. A part of him wanted to stay there forever. He was an old man, regardless of his physical prowess and his youthful appearance. 

A part of him wanted to ask Angeal if he’d consider retiring, but his partner was so young and he had eternity ahead of him. Asking him to retire when his life had barely begun and would likely never end seemed horrendously hypocritical. There was-however-a part of him that wanted to see the world with his lover...that wanted to live as he had never lived so that Angeal could never say that they hadn’t lived his life to the fullest. He didn’t know what was more beneficial…what _ would _be more beneficial when he was gone. What was more important, after all? Knowing you’d given your love of a very short time a life worth living, or having a life worth living once your love of a very short time had gone to the ground? 

Such thoughts were heinous in the middle of a honeymoon, but he couldn’t always stop them.

A hand snaked over his shoulder to cup his cheek and Vincent leaned into it...relished the rasp of a calloused palm against his skin before he turned his head to kiss the center of it. The fire was built up and blazing merrily before them...flames dancing into the starry sky. It wasn’t cold enough that they had to wear coats, but the air was cool enough that the heat was a welcome thing. A long-fingered hand threaded through his hair and the gunslinger felt himself sigh contentedly...closed his eyes and basked in the moment...as he had basked in so many other moments. And was it really so selfish to want this? He hadn’t taken what he wanted before, and it had cost him deeply. It seemed foolish to question something that had been given so freely...seemed like a devaluation of its worth. Lifting lax lids, the ebon-haired former Turk gazed at the ring on his finger...at the way it glittered before the fire. No...he couldn’t question this...he didn’t want to. 

“I love you.” He murmured.

And he did. He truly did. Sometimes it felt like he didn’t say it enough, like he didn’t communicate it enough. There were times when his aged mentality was combative with the youth of his body. Because his mentality was telling him that time was running out, when really, they had _ so much _time. A kiss to his forehead and he felt himself smile...felt his lips curve upward as Angeal circumvented the chair he was sitting in to kneel somewhat before him. 

“If you propose again,” He murmured. “Don’t expect the answer to change.” 

His expression was mirrored in the sapphire orbs gazing into his soul before those kind hands cradled his between them and brought them up to the younger man’s lips. It was only then that Angeal settled down, sitting on the ground and next to his legs, leaning somewhat to his chair as they both gazed at the bright hues of the fire before them. The burning logs cracked, and tiny bright dots danced heavenwards with the flames before disappearing into the nothingness they had come from. 

Unhurriedly, Vincent followed his lover to the trimmed stones of their porch, sat down beside him and felt a strong arm curl around his shoulder and give a small squeeze. There was the scrape of chair legs, but the older man paid it no heed even though it was somewhat jarring against the ambience of nature and their quiet exchange. A flutter, the warmth of something brushing against his back, and soon a white plumage was wrapping itself around him like a second embrace. 

Obviously, there was something on his lover’s mind, and interestingly, Vincent found himself wanting not to be patient; wanting to push and ask for it, just because there was also a joy in doing things that weren’t quite like them and seeing how his partner would react. However, he found himself reluctant to break the pleasant quiescence that shrouded the two of them and their chalet; the same tranquility that seemed to separate them from the rest of Gaia in a world of their own. While a facet of him whispered that it was a frivolous manner of looking at things, unreal as it was, Vincent couldn’t begrudge himself for it...couldn’t bring himself to loathe wanting both of them to remain here together. Not anymore.

“I’ve been thinking...” was the quiet utterance that brought him out of his reverie as Angeal slowly averted his gaze from the glowing source of warmth at their feet to his eyes. His stern youthful visage was both illuminated by the warm hues and cast into dark shadows where the light from the flames didn’t reach. “How about we retired and stayed for a while? Built a life...here, together.” It was hard to miss the way those eyes got a distant look swirling in their depths, as though envisioning an image that Vincent found himself wanting to be privy to. “What do you think?”

Vincent wanted to say so many things.

_ ‘Yes’- _ of course-being one of them. But there was an even larger part of him that wanted to ask if the younger man was sure that was what he wanted. He wanted to point out that while he might not have much time left-on the scale of eternity-his partner certainly did. And despite the fact that he was _ grateful, _he was indescribably worried about the fact that if they did retire, when he passed the younger man wouldn’t have anything with which to preoccupy his time. He supposed that was a little bit vain of him...to assume that his husband would have so little with which to do with himself that he wouldn’t be able to handle it. Still, Angeal had married him. That in of itself was a statement of his worth to the younger man. And in such worth, perhaps he had the right to worry, but he didn’t know and he didn’t want to ruin the moment by asking. Running his fingers through cloud-covered rachis, the gunslinger opened his mouth.

“I love the idea.” He murmured. “Truthfully, I was thinking of it myself.” Angeal didn’t respond...seemed to sense that he was waiting for the rest of what he was going to say. “But is this something you want?” When the former Commander looked a bit confused, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Closing his eyes, the former Turk continued. “I worry about you.” He said guiltily. “I shouldn’t, but I do.” Pressing himself closer to his companion’s side, he tilted his head. “I...just want to be able to know you’ll be alright.” He whispered, and he didn’t have to put the concept into words for either of them to know what he was talking about. “I just want to be able to see the future, just once. And a part of me feels like by retiring with me you’re giving up something, I know it’s not true.” Vincent added hastily. “It’s just a mentality, a _ ridiculous _Turk mentality to think ahead far beyond what’s feasible or logical.” Shaking his head, he laughed quietly. “And I think I shouldn’t think on it so much, but I do.” 

At the mention of his previous profession, the dark-haired First smiled and pressed a kiss to his temple. There was a quiet affectionate murmur of _ ‘You and your endearing Turk mentality’ _and Vincent couldn’t help but mirror his lover’s expression, the mirth in those blue eyes always so beautifully contagious. The tranquility from before his partner had mentioned his idea returned anew, but it was accompanied by some sort of tangible paramount warmth. It’d been on more than one occasion that they’d been on the same page without actually having to speak their thoughts out loud. And the way it was something effortless on both their behalves made some significant facet of his psyche shiver in the face of it: the strength of their bond, the magnitude of understanding they shared mutually. 

“I’d tell you not to think about such things,” Angeal uttered, a vein of loving humor coloring his voice as he spoke. “But…” Another kiss was bestowed through the curtain of his ebony hair. “I love your worry and your thoughts as much as I love you...anything you do.” A big palm brushed up the side of his bicep as the former General added, gaze returning to the glowing embers and the brilliant hues that illuminated their huddle. “I’m not giving up anything by retiring to live with you. Vincent, I’m gaining so much more that it’s almost ridiculous trying to compare.” A pause. “I’ve done my part...with war, with shaping SOLDIER, Shinra, the world. I’ll forever be loyal to SOLDIER, or rather the idea behind it and its goals, its dreams, as I am loyal to you. I don’t think either of us would be able to completely turn a blind eye to the matters of the world and how Shinra is run-to make sure even if it’s from the sidelines that things don’t go astray-but...and despite what you’ve always told me, I’m an old man.” A brief huff of laughter before the younger man sobered up, something shifting in sapphire depths. “My retirement’s been long overdue.” There was a sigh before the blue gaze returned to his, and their hard edge from before softened. Calloused digits dove in the fall of his hair then, as Angeal leant his forehead to his temple. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Vincent reflected that if his lover referred to himself as being old again he just might pinch his cheeks. Because if Angeal was old then he was _ ancient _as far as chronological standards went. A log popped, and he watched as the shower of sparks it emitted danced upward into the heavens. He’d somewhat come to terms with the fact that-when it came to them-age was just a number. Neither of them had really taken their respective agedness or youthfulness into consideration when they’d begin their relationship, and it really wasn’t a point of contention now. Rotating somewhat, the gunslinger pressed a kiss to his lover’s forehead before drawing back and catching those beautiful, oceanic eyes. And he could see that there was no hesitation in them, which gave him some solace. It was hard to tell what the years would bring, but there was no point in dwelling on it now if this was something they both desired together. He was fairly sure that Shinra would take the younger man back in a heartbeat should he ask, so he put the idea to rest. Fifty years from now, he wasn’t even sure if Shinra would exist.

There was no telling what tomorrow might bring, after all.

“Who am I to stop you then?” The former Turk asked gently. His companion smiled, and he chuckled. “There’s no use pretending that _ I _don’t want this.” Cerise lips were somewhat highlighted by the light of the fire, and Vincent took the opportunity to steal Angeal’s mouth. For a minute or two there was only silence between them save for the exchange of breath and the rustle of clothes. The older man drew away before he lost himself utterly to it, his face slightly flushed. “We’ll need to put in our two weeks of course.” He continued somewhat raggedly. Thinking briefly, the older man amended his statement. “Or at the very least I will. We also would have to tell Genesis and Sephiroth, though I don’t think they’ll be very surprised.” He was silent for a moment. “Would you like to travel?” He asked abruptly. “Not right away, not until we’re settled. But...do you have any places you’ve never been that you’d like to go?” The gunslinger paused somewhat ruefully. “If the space program was up we could always explore the stars, but that will take decades.”

For some reason unbeknownst to the crimson-eyed gunslinger, his love found something really amusing in his words because then he started laughing heartily. Bemused and trying to look a bit offended, Vincent couldn’t keep it up for long. The hand around his shoulder pressed him a bit closer to the dark-haired First, and Angeal tried sobering up enough to explain himself. “At this rate, and knowing Palmer, it’s really remarkable we have an aviation industry at all. I’m not sure if you remember, but last time, he was at Honeybee Inn trying to hide from Zack and I beneath the reception desk… Something tells me-with as much time on his hands as he has, now that the most majority of the work on wind farms is done-he might be frequenting the same circles.” A pause, and dark eyebrows furrowed slightly in concentration. “I don’t blame him; first with Shinra never funding any of his projects whatsoever, and then, with the renovations and what not, there’s not much money left for him to get anything off the ground. I’m not sure, but maybe relinquishing the space program to the private sector is not such a bad idea after all.” It seemed that his lover was about to talk more, but all of a sudden, something passed over his visage. Vincent found the focus of that sapphire gaze on himself as a lopsided, nervous smile broke over pale lips. “I killed the mood with my rambling, didn’t I?” Letting his sable head hang, Angeal’s digits busied themselves with scratching the nape of his neck in the same manner that signified his partner’s embarrassment. There was a quiet mumble of _ ‘went on a tangent on the economics, sorry’ _ before it was continued in a more assertive utterance. “What I meant to say is… I’d love to explore the stars with you, whenever we get there. And I’d love to travel and see the world with you. I’ve been here and there on missions…” And something told Vincent that in terms of major cities around the globe, his partner must have seen them all, but might have refrained from pointing it out loud. “But it’s about us now, both of us, so is there anywhere you’d particularly like to explore and- _ or _ visit?”

He hadn't really thought about it.

Now that he'd been presented with the question, he felt a bit embarrassed that he hadn't thought about it himself before asking Angeal. It was a little presumptuous of him to heap such query-related expectations on his lover before he'd even considered the topic himself. Realistically, his career previously hadn't allowed him to think about it. He'd gotten some travel out of his time with the Turks, but missions were different in terms of focus. You couldn't exactly admire the scenery when you were running a hit or gathering intelligence. Gaia was-effectively-a bit limited in terms of geography. He hadn't been to Mideel, but people didn't particularly vacation there in any case. Costa del Sol was-of course-the tourist hotspot and always had been. He was somewhat curious about the snowier areas of the planet. Shinra Mansion got fairly flaky come winter, but he'd been too busy sleeping to really see it. Angeal had never expressed a particular liking for snow, but he'd never asked either. 

“Maybe the Northern Continent.” He said quietly. Taking one of his husband's big hands in his own, he stroked a thumb over the knuckles. “Though it occurred to me that I've never asked if you really like the cold.” Vincent made a face. “If we went to Costa, I think I'd burn to a red crisp. And if not, you'd have to spend the entirety of our trip slathering me with sunscreen.” When Angeal gave him a look that said he really honestly wouldn't mind that, he blushed and nudged the younger man playfully. “It'd get old after a while, believe me. Though if you wanted to go, we could. But my skin is about as resilient as a feather when it comes to the sun. I don't toast, I char.” He appraised the former General. “You look like the tanning type.” He remarked. “I think I'd look a bit off with one but I wouldn't know because I never have.”

Angeal didn’t bother to hide his entirely not so innocent mirth, and they shared a few infinitesimal moments of subdued laughter before the dark-haired First decided to share his thoughts on the matter. “You know Banora doesn’t really experience extreme temperatures...so it was always Spring or Summer there. Then, we had Wutai that had Icicle’s climate towards North and Mideel’s in South. I haven’t really found any inclination towards either.” Half-leaning forward to stoke the fire again, the tufty plumage of his lover’s wing that had wrapped itself around him moved a little; with that and the ingress of cool night air, Vincent couldn’t help but shiver a little as he watched more sparks rise. The younger man pushed the logs around with another chopped piece of wood before throwing it in and returning to their huddle. “I think the point of it is spending time together and experiencing all those places with you. So, really, it doesn’t matter if it’s cold or not, as long as it’s somewhere you’d like to see with me.” Another smile, which was just on the right side of guilty, slowly edged its way on pale lips before the Banoran let the ebon-haired gunman know what was going through that onyx head of his. “Although, we could always go to Costa whenever you were tired of me being pale, and I don’t-” Another nudge, and the ex-Turk couldn’t help but wonder if he had to take more severe measures, but the laugh that erupted from Angeal and the playfulness with which he continued didn’t really make him any more victorious. “I _ don’t _mind slathering you in sunscreen, or oil and not leaving the hotel if you don’t like the sun in Costa.” Another chuckle. “We could always bring Sephiroth and Genesis, and have you and Gen-...” When the older man narrowed his eyes, his partner quite conveniently switched the subject. “Do you know he has these freckles he hates so much? He’d murder me if he found out I told you...but they get really obvious in the sun. He had a morning routine in Wutai when we were in the Naiwo desert to cover them up.”

Vincent was _ sorely _tempted to tell Sephiroth about Genesis’ apparent hidden freckles. He was fairly sure his son would not be able to resist taking the redhead somewhere sunny just for the sake of being able to see them. He could not, however, in good conscience break Angeal’s confidence in him, so he determined to restrain himself. He was also fairly sure his husband had been about to suggest that he and his progeny’s partner participate in a sunburn contest. He wasn’t entirely sure what was more amusing; the fact that he and Sephiroth would willingly watch them turn red or the fact that he was fairly sure that-if challenged-Genesis would do it. He wasn’t sure which one of them would fold first but he hadn’t been in any sort of bright sun in several decades and he was somewhat certain the result would be horrifying. It took the older man a moment to realize he was chuckling quietly to himself while his newlywed looked at him in amusement. Collecting himself somewhat, the gunslinger opened his mouth to speak. 

“I think I could brave the dangerous rays of the sun for you.” He said teasingly. “But the idea of spending our entire vacation in a hotel isn’t unattractive either.” Raising a somewhat suggestive brow at the younger man, he smiled when the expression was returned. Hesitating, he gathered his thoughts before continuing. “I suppose we’ll just have to leave it up in the air until we decide on something.” An easy silence fell between them for a couple minutes, and he watched as the aurora borealis stretched out under the stars...a shimmering stream of hydrangea, luminescent green, and soft blue. As it wound itself into the horizon, he reflected on the fact that some said it was wrought from the Lifestream...that the souls of the dead walked the path it fashioned into the Further and from there...onward. Sometimes, he wondered if that was true...if any of it was true. He supposed that he couldn’t afford cynicism at this point...but the Turk in him was apparently rampant and uncontrollably logical. “I love you.” He added somewhat awkwardly.

It was abrupt, but he wanted to say it. Wanted to say it a thousand times. Not because he thought the younger man would forget it, but because his mark on the earth-at that moment-seemed very small. Drawing closer, he tilted his chin up, blinked somewhat indicatively until the former General lowered his head to kiss him. It wasn’t something so much desirous as it was something sought...something needed. Vincent didn’t know if it was reassurance or if it was simply reciprocation...only that it was grounding...that it tethered him to something solid and soft and solely Angeal. There were crickets chirping in the bushes...the night spread above them like a jewel-studded blanket...and here they were. Sometimes, it was so simplistic it made him nervous. Maybe that was what it was...nerves. 

They both drew back, by some unspoken agreement and yet, Angeal didn’t let him return to how he’d been sitting beside him, arms and biceps separated by the fabric of their clothes brushing. Instead, his partner’s aquiline features settled in their soft neutrality as sapphire eyes just traced his visage, as though seeking something and at the same time not. When cool calloused fingertips gently touched his cheek, the tiniest of tremors trembled down his spine, but Vincent didn’t break their gaze and followed those aquamarine pools with his own. The dark-haired First followed the path of his digits with them as they meandered toward the older man’s brow, but they didn’t seem to want to settle there, so they trailed lower toward his jaw. It was then, the younger man who was kissing him this time, soft, slow, and warm like the body he was being nudged toward. And they didn’t stop even as the ex-Turk resettled on his lover’s lap. A small voice at the back of his head whispered that the stones of the deck weren’t really comfortable especially with their combined weight, but then his husband chose that exact moment to wrap his wing around his back before the nuance of their kiss could deepen, and the thought fled his mind for the time being.

Again, their insignificant world, which was solely theirs, was filled with the ambience of nature, the fire burning behind him, and more immediately, the issue of breath and the rustle of fabric and feather as they rose to meet each other in between. Angeal’s hands were brushing over his thick noir mane when that dulcet tone quietly uttered between them. “I love you too.”

Vincent smiled and the gesture translated itself into the kiss...made it something a bit awkward yet no less sweet. He wanted to reach back, wanted to sink his fingers into that tufty down because they hadn’t really explored that area of his lover yet. And he was somewhat surprised that the younger man was comfortable enough to bring it out now...it had always been somewhat of an issue of insecurity for his husband. Personally, he thought it was beautiful in a way that no words could fully summarize; thought it was something ethereal and brilliant and wholly that of the individual below him. The bottommost edges of soft pinions brushed against his side and he shivered, hunched slightly as their lips were brought together again. If they weren’t careful they’d end up making love right where they were...had done it before and likely would again. It was a slow warmth that pooled in his belly...spread like fire to the rest of his physicality until it was simmering, shivering heat. The older man’s breath hitched as his teeth caught the edge of a pink tongue...bit down gently before he pulled away reluctantly-breath ragged-so he could rest his forehead against a broad shoulder. Placing a steadying hand on the blue-eyed First’s hip, the former Turk chuckled breathlessly.

“You do know how to undo me.” He murmured.

It was hard not to shiver with the way Angeal nestled his face in the fall of his hair, exhalations ghosting over the shell of his ear, and the smile that was on his lover’s lips was apparent as it brushed against the side of his face. Sitting as they were, in each other’s arms, warm big palms slowly made their way between the fabric covering his back. There was the rasp of epidermis against heated skin, the way his nerves almost tingled with tiny minute sparks of electricity at the promise of something they could’ve very much given into by now but were taking their time for...enjoying each other, relishing every moment. And they had so much time now that, in contrast to how they’d been running out of it before, believing it left him breathless and wanting, savoring every sensation… 

“Beautiful,” was an almost inaudible murmur. “Everything about you.”

Hands exploring higher and higher, fabric of his sweater bunching over forearms and yet he wasn’t cold at all. The feathers tickled his skin, but it was pleasant and warm being hidden in their fold. The younger man pulled him even closer as though he wanted to reside in Vincent’s embrace, under his skin, inside his bones. 

Quiet. Calm. And so wholly loved.

“Do you want to stay up and see the sunrise? Or do we go back inside?”

Both offers were equally tempting. For one, he wasn’t entirely sure that they would see the sunrise whether they stayed outside or went inside. They’d had so few opportunities like this before...opportunities to enjoy each other at whim...without worrying about what was lurking around the next corner. So much of their lives had been committed to rebuilding Shinra, and then they’d committed to helping Genesis and Sephiroth. And he didn’t believe in selfishness...didn’t believe in putting aside the needs of others in order to focus on himself...but sometimes it was just nice to take _ care _ of each other instead of taking care of someone or something else. He would never, _ ever _stop being grateful for the opportunities that such service had done him; ever. He would never forget that being so focused in terms of his career was what had helped him reunite with his son...but this...this was still peaceful. 

It had helped them get to know each other more...despite the fact that they knew each other fairly well at this point regardless. They were more comfortable around one another, more assured of their existence. He still had moments of doubt, but they were negligible in the face of their cohesive definition. And it wasn’t doubt in terms of their feelings, it was an automatic, ingrained fear of cataclysmic change borne from expectation and result. He supposed...in a way, they were all somewhat traumatized in terms of outlook. Nothing would ever be ‘easy’ for them ever again. Any decision they made would never be made with frivolity because their lives were the exact opposite of that. In a way, it made him a little bit sad, because no one should have to live like that...looking over their shoulder...dreading something that could possibly never happen. He felt sadder for it when he thought of Sephiroth; because his life could have been so different. Vincent was fairly sure his son would never fully recover from the treatment he’d been subjected to as a child...and it was entirely his fault. 

Dwelling on it, of course, didn’t do him any good. 

“I think I’ll leave it up to you.” He said quietly, closing his eyes. “I’m just...grateful. To be here, with you.” 

There was a quiet chuckle, and before Vincent could try and decipher the reason behind it, Angeal’s hands dropped quickly to grip under his thighs and the gunman had to hang on for dear life because his lover chose to start shifting to rise to his feet. At his paramount surprise, the dark-haired First’s chuckling turned to kind-hearted laughter, brief just as the duration of him being carried. With his arms looped around the younger man’s neck and his lover gazing up merrily at his visage, they twirled around a couple of times. He couldn’t help but join in then, their merriment ringing out in the otherwise easy quiet that had surrounded them. A couple steps toward their house, and then he was being lowered gently and slowly onto one of their chairs, his husband brushing a kiss to his temple before detangling them and leaving for their house. 

Angeal’s absence, however, didn’t take long enough for his thoughts to rush back in. There was a small smile playing on Vincent’s lips when the younger man returned with the blankets and cushions they’d left on the couches in their living room before. Offering one of each pair to him, the former General pushed the other chair until there was no gap between their armrests and deposited himself next to him, leaning back and stretching his legs out in front. A long somewhat loud exhale, and the ex-Turk averted his gaze to see his partner gazing at the explosion of astral light upon the indigo of the heaven’s dome.

Dawn was now creeping up upon them.

The stars were-of course-still brilliant, but there was a sliver of lightening navy blue just on the edge of the horizon. It was subtle still, and would be for a while yet, but daylight was slowly yet most certainly approaching them in a gradual but inevitable march. They hadn’t laid out any plans for the day and they normally didn’t. Their schedules in Shinra were so busy and so filled with hour to hour-and sometimes minute to minute-appointments that arranging anything ahead of time seemed heinous in its adherence to their usual schedules. Reaching over and taking the younger man’s hands, Vincent smiled as his palm was immediately raised so that his husband could brush his lips across his knuckles. They shared a glance...something tangible...unspoken, yet filled with so many wordless concepts that there was no amount of phrases that could possibly traverse them all…from the forest came the scent of evergreen...from their eyes the whisper of a promise…and from their hearts that which was indomitable, everlasting and finite…

...the nuance of love, and the vow of a lifetime spent together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, our story and series end here. I, personally, had a good time writing the chapter about the wedding; and if I had to pick favorites between that and this one, I'd go for this last chapter. That said, I hope you all enjoyed this journey and I apologize for typos, plot holes, mistakes, and any other thing that shouldn't have been there but was. Constructive criticism and feedback, especially in areas that need amelioration, is very much appreciated.
> 
> It was a privilege having your readership, so thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts and emotions. 
> 
> Wish you all the best, and see you around!
> 
> -Darksilversilhouette


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